Renegade Star Origins Box Set

by J. N. Chaney

  I followed his pointing finger to the fence. There were signs of some foot traffic, but nothing particularly unusual. “I don’t see anything.”

  Vance laughed. It was an odd sound, drifting from nervous to relief in just a few notes. “Whew. I was hoping it was hard to see, but if you didn’t catch it, I think I’m going to have to wander out more often.” He took a step to the fence line and started tracing his hand across the surface. He stopped at one point and fidgeted at a link for a moment. He then traced his hand around a second and third time.

  I leaned in close to his back, peering carefully at each separating section of the fence. The links had been disconnected and fastened somehow. “Ah. You are passing through a partial breach in the fence that keeps from triggering the tracking system. As far as the campus network is concerned, you don’t register as absent.”

  Vance slipped through the gap in the fence. “You got it in one. You may have noticed, but Quintell doesn’t spend a lot on maintenance. They’re still running software from two decades ago. As long as you don’t pass any of the sensors along the top of the fence or at the gates, you’re good.”

  I slipped through the gap in the fence and found myself with no sense of dread or hesitation in the outside world. “They must do at least cursory inspections and head counts through the night?”

  Vance choked back a laugh. “Have you seen your floor manager? That lazy bum isn’t doing anything, and he’s pretty good at faking reports of inspections. Not that I think anyone would read them anyway.” He motioned at me. “Here. Help me get the fence secured.”

  I held the wire and Vance made several motions like he was tying something along the links.

  “Translucent thread,” he explained. “A student at some point had a stash. Almost completely invisible to scanners and no way you’re seeing them with the naked eye. You can feel for them and tie them in a bow. But don’t do a knot. You’ll never find it again.”

  7

  Now free of the confines of the academy campus, the rest of the plan took shape.

  Vance gave me a troubled look and swept me with an up-down glance. “We gotta do something about you and this uniform thing. Doesn’t matter how we show up in the system if you obviously look like you don’t belong in the city. If one of the teachers is out on the town and they spot us, we’re done for.”

  “I only have uniforms,” I said. The truth was I didn’t even know how to get civilian, or as some of the students called them, “townie” clothing. “We can’t go shopping. I don’t have any money, either.”

  Vance snickered at that and hooked his arm back around me. “Oh, Alpha. There is so much about the world off-campus you gotta learn. Let’s call this rebel lesson one. At least try to alter your appearance while we get to our next destination.”

  He stepped back and looked me over again. “All we really need to do for now is get rid of the blazer. Nobody walks around sporting a crest on their clothes at our age unless they are forced to.”

  I considered the crest on the lapel of my blazer and the garment itself. I had been wearing one for so many years, it didn’t even have a weight. I slid the blazer off and tied it around my waist.

  Vance rolled his eyes. “Excellent. You look like a boarding school kid pretending not to be a boarding school kid.”

  “No rebel points for that?” I hazarded.

  Vance sighed dramatically. “We’ll call that partial credit. Look, rebels don’t have attachments, my man. Just ditch the thing.”

  I looked back at the fence and the campus. Easy enough to just leave it here. I removed my ID card from the pocket and folded up the blazer, shoving it into a depression between the outside of the fence and a clump of overgrown grass poking through to the outside. Then I took off and pocketed my tie, rolled up and pinned my sleeves, and presented myself to Vance.

  He nodded. “You could still pass for a choir boy in a pinch, but at least it’s not obvious where you sing the hymns. Let’s get moving, we’re burning daylight.”

  Vance pointed down the hill and into the downtown area. “All the action happens that way.” Then he pointed to the west of campus and a residential area beyond. “But we’re going to take a detour and find you a more permanent solution to”—he gestured at my clothes— “this.”

  I followed Vance for more than a kilometer as he weaved his way off the main road and into a neighborhood. Along the way, he chatted about classes and some of the different people he had seen come and go in the past few years. Quintell had more turnover than any institution he had heard of. It wasn’t exactly a bad school, it just wasn’t a place you went if everything was going well.

  I took in the apartment buildings and street names as we moved into smaller houses and bigger yards. I found myself angry that the street names abandoned any form of pattern. They didn’t stay alphabetical, so as to indicate a progression, or even keep consistent with the north/south or east/west of boulevards and avenues. Things named roads ended in cul-de-sacs, and circles joined up with terraces.

  Finally, Vance stopped in front of a two-story brick façade house. It had a flat roof with angular window awnings and a porch peculiarly attached to the side of the building. “This is the place,” he said.

  He walked through the gate and over to the porch, bypassing the front of the house, and skipped up the three stairs with a touch of flair. Then he waved back to me. “C’mon, Alpha, get up here. Stop standing in the street like an idiot.”

  I followed him onto the porch and to a country-style half doorway. The bottom half was closed and the top propped open with a rod.

  Vance knocked on the door frame twice and then took a step back. Inside, the series of explosions and sudden curses stopped. A moment later, the top door was pushed open and the rod brandished by a man I recognized from the academy. It was Mr. Kurns, the facilities manager. He was in his late thirties according to his file but looked more mid-forties. He had gray at his temples along with a low fade haircut that implied military service. His file mentioned nothing of the sort, so I guessed it was more about comfort since he worked outdoors a great deal wearing a hat.

  Vance gave him a hearty greeting and handshake. “Need some work done around my room.”

  Mr. Kurns gave me a glance and then focused on Vance. “Is he going to need some work on his place too? Haven’t seen him before.”

  Vance nodded. “This is my main man Alpha. Only been here a week. I’m getting him settled.”

  Mr. Kurns sized me up. “He looks like he’s never been outside. You sure about this?”

  Vance nodded again and leaned against the doorframe in what I was learning was his “trust me” slouch. “You don’t gotta worry about Alpha. He’s harmless. Just hasn’t really found his footing in this whole living thing. I’m helping him log some street smarts time.” Vance handed over his student ID. “Just some pocket cash for me.”

  Mr. Kurns disappeared inside the house, letting the top half of the door swing closed. The sounds of explosions and casual swearing came back for a few minutes before stopping. The door reopened and he handed Vance back his ID along with some cash. “You’re low. Take it easy for a bit unless you can get a line on something.”

  Vance deepened his trademark slouch. “I’m good for it. I always find an angle. Now how about you check on something for my man here.” He gestured at me by the door.

  I stepped up and pulled out my student ID. “I think I need some pocket money and something for clothes?”

  Mr. Kurns took the card and stared at Vance. “Really? Does he even know what’s going on here?”

  Vance gave a shrug. “Alpha, explain to Mr. Kurns what his business is for me.”

  It all became clear in an instant. “Mr. Kurns, as facilities manager, is in charge of ordering needed equipment to upkeep the grounds and buildings on campus. Grounds and buildings that show signs of heavy use and incomplete repair. He’s ordering supplies with school funds and then misdirecting or canceling the orders. He pockets the funds
and divvies them out to students, who give him access to their support accounts. That way, he profits and keeps the school just barely presentable.”

  Mr. Kurns nodded. “You left out the part where I earmark portions of the student support accounts as donations for facilities. That way, the money goes to my office so I can control how it gets spent.” He smiled with pride. “It’s been a solid side business for me going on three years. I don’t take on new students without a meet and greet. Looks like Vance is vouching for you. I run into trouble, though, and I have all the proof I need to show that you swiped materials from facilities.”

  I nodded. “That’s your stratagem. You have plenty of leverage with the IDs and facilities ordering. Nobody would think twice or try to audit you, since oversight doesn’t know exactly what is and isn’t necessary.” I paused. “So long as the grift isn’t too high, of course.”

  Mr. Kurns smiled again. “You’ve got a point, Vance. This guy gets it. It takes longer for me to set up a new account. I’ll move a lump sum now, give you a part, and then create a bit of an allowance for you from time to time. Makes everything nice and tidy.”

  “It also gives you more up front and you can always hope the student gets cold feet and doesn’t return for their cash. Right?”

  Mr. Kurns smiled wider. “No point in doing business if you don’t corner the market, kid. Wait here.” He closed the top door and again the noises resumed.

  Vance took a seat and thumbed through his cash before putting it in his pocket. “You’ll like Mr. Kurns, just don’t try to talk to him much on campus. He has an image to uphold.”

  I sat down and thought about the likelihood that my parents would notice the changes to my school accounts. They didn’t seem to notice, or care, that the academy name changed.

  The door opened and Mr. Kurns leaned out. He looked concerned. “Hey, Vance. Give me a minute with your friend here.”

  Vance shot out of his seat and gave me a broad smile. “I’ll be on the road, headed back toward Quintell. Don’t take too long, I’m not exactly patient. Later, Mr. Kurns.”

  I walked back over to the half door.

  Mr. Kurns waited until Vance was clear of the side porch before saying anything. Then he pulled up a wad of bills and my ID. “You don’t ask for much, do you, kid?”

  I took the question as rhetorical and waited for him to continue.

  “You may not know this, but every student has a personal allotment. This is money set aside by your parents to be used for incidentals, entertainment, and other things. You haven’t touched a penny of yours in four years. That has me thinking you don’t care to have things or you don’t know it exists. So which is it?”

  “I’ve lived on what the school provided me. I don’t really care for other things.”

  “I’ll give you some cash now, but I suggest you talk to your floor manager and get a day pass officially, go buy some townie stuff like everyone else. Otherwise, anything you pick up with what I’m giving you is going to stick out. You hear me?” He handed back the ID and gave me part of the wad.

  “I’ll get that set up tomorrow.” I put everything in my pocket. “And this allowance?”

  “You shouldn’t need anything for a while unless you start spending carelessly. Which will also be suspicious. Just play it cool. I better not see you for at least a month.”

  “Thank you. I better catch Vance.” I walked to the street and then jogged until I caught back up with Vance. It wasn’t difficult, as he had barely gone a block.

  He scooped me up in his hawkish friend embrace when I got near. “You get that all settled? Good. Next, we’re headed downtown. There is a clubhouse of sorts I’ll introduce you to.”

  It was just getting dark by the time we’d retraced our steps back to the academy and then into the downtown. Vance gave a rundown of our proposed itinerary.

  “We’ll hit the Clubhouse first. Do a quick meet and greet. I normally have a few people I need to see at these things to keep business running.”

  As always, he left it vague as to exactly what he was up to, for whom, and why. Vance was inscrutable at times. I wasn’t able to distinguish if it was by design or that he had no real plan to uncover.

  “After that, we can hit up a few other places. I know some cafes that don’t look twice at students and a few stores if you want to pick up some contraband.”

  Contraband normally referred to items not permitted by the school code, though it was again hard to tell if Vance might also mean heavier illegal goods.

  Vance stopped and patted his pockets in an odd display of forgetfulness. “Speaking of contraband, someone was expecting me to bring liquor.” He looked around as if trying to make a choice on direction. “Bah. I’ll get ‘em next time. Let’s just go.”

  We walked up to a corner bar with a darkened sign that read The Clubhouse. The windows were shuttered, and a realtor sign faded in the window. Vance pointed around the corner, then we went through an alley and around the back of the building. There, a steep staircase led to an external door. Music and conversation poured out around the seams.

  Vance stopped a few stairs above the door. “Okay, look. I need to talk to some people when we get in. I want you to stand off to the side and look awkward and confused.”

  I knit my brow in worry at whatever plan he was hatching.

  “Great, just like that. Now you just stand around and look confused and I’ll talk to my people. Then we’ll see what kind of action is going on. Got it?”

  I frowned. “This doesn’t sound like a good idea.”

  “I’m docking you rebel points for that.” Vance went down the steps and slapped the door. The peephole darkened for a moment then opened. The sounds raged as we entered.

  A guy holding a longneck bottle closed the door and sat back on his bench. He looked to be a senior or a recent graduate. The room was lit mostly with ambient light strips connected with the stereo. It pulsed and moved with the sound. The stereo dominated the south wall of the room and was flanked by two hallways. The center of the room held several couches and rough end-tables that formed a ring around the makeshift dance floor. More than a dozen students were seated and having conversations while even more spun and gyrated.

  Vance left me at the door as he waved at a student on the closest couch. The two gave a makeshift hug and handshake and started talking. I could barely hear them over the music.

  “I don’t got it right now. I got busy and forgot,” Vance said.

  “I was counting on the stuff, Vance,” the student replied. “My girl doesn’t get frisky unless she’s had something sweet and fun, y’know?”

  “Don’t worry, I’ve got some cash. Just hit up somebody here.”

  “Fine, hand it over. If I don’t get what I want tonight, you won’t get what you want tomorrow, that clear?”

  Vance walked back over to me. “You can look a little less in pain and a little more excited.”

  “This isn’t what I was expecting when you said we’d be out on the town.” I found it hard to modulate my voice with the sudden drops and beats of the music.

  Vance again slung his arm over my shoulder and moved me through the room and into the left hallway. “Like I said, we’ll do the rounds and then be on our way.”

  We walked down the hall past a couple of different doorways. Sounds of engrossing activity could be heard coming from some of them. We rounded the back of the hall and into a kitchen. There, students and local girls were mixing drinks, combining the contents of a dozen bottles of liquor with another half-dozen mixers.

  We passed through the kitchen and found ourselves back in the front room. “I don’t see anybody I need to deal with,” said Vance. “You look like you’re not into the scene.”

  I gave a strained nod.

  “Fine. There’s a holo theater on 23rd and 5th. We’ll hit that up.”

  I nodded as we reached the door and exited the clamor. “I don’t think I’m rebel enough for this yet.”

  Vance laughed. �
��You can make up some points by paying for my ticket. I’m tapped out.”

  8

  The final notes of the orchestral melody woven with a hit song faded out and the theater lights came on. I realized I had lost track of time and place somewhere in the wild adventure of the holo film.

  Vance gave me a tap on the arm and I turned to see him beaming. “The Adventures of Marco Grimm kicks ass, right?”

  “I have to admit, it was thrilling. The overstory of Marco as a space-traveling hunter that kills savage monsters out of alien legends was goofy.”

  Vance frowned and a twinkle in his eye started to fade.

  I continued before it got severely diminished. “But I think the sub-plot of Marco trying to bring his girlfriend Atalasha back to life after she was cursed was surprising. And it looks like they set it up for a sequel.”

  Vance slugged me anyway, but his twinkle was back in full force. “What do you mean ‘sequel?’”

  “That charm that Atalasha was clasping that cursed her, she dropped it when Marco finished the incantation and it fell in the ashes.”

  Vance sat agape. “The ashes of the polar Varouth that Marco defeated to get the sixth component. Of course. That is totally going to come back to bite him in the ass.”

  The house lights kicked on and I saw that we were the only stragglers still in the room. “I guess we should head out.”

  We wound our way out of the theater. I had to shush Vance twice as we passed eager viewers on their way in. “Don’t ruin it for them. That goes against the hunter’s code, right?”

  Vance sprang forward and hit the doors, making like he was Marco stalking a Lacona shapeshifter.

  I followed him out with a touch more restraint on my enthusiasm. “That second energy drink was a bad idea, Vance.”

  Vance bobbed and weaved around a pair of girls heading into the theater. “No such thing as too much energy, Alpha, only a lack of imagination to use it.” He slowed down and resumed his normal slouching gait as he approached me.