Renegade Earth

by J. N. Chaney

  “I get you,” I told him, having spent a fair bit of time in a cell as a teenager, counting seconds, minutes, and hours, never knowing what would happen next.

  Now, here I was, trying to use that advice for the job at hand, taking things one step at a time so I didn’t lose my mind from overthinking the long game or wondering what might happen if we lost. I didn’t have time for that kind of fear. Not with so much riding on my back.

  So for now, I’d concentrate on prepping my ship, and then I’d get my ass to the surface of Perseus, along with Sigmond and the rest of my squad.

  Because that’s what had to be done.

  I walked through the landing bay, making my way to The Star on the other side. Nearby, dozens of pilots rushed to ready their assigned ships, prepping for the looming mission before us. Bolin and Octavia were both there, ordering their squads around, each with a commanding presence I’d grown fond of seeing. When I had first met Bolin, back on that scrapheap of a world where he was stuck selling junk to anyone who would buy, I never could’ve predicted he’d wind up fighting beside me, leading his own squad of pilots. He’d been a scrapper, a discarded nobody with nothing to his name except a pile of metal artifacts and a loving daughter. He might have said the latter was enough, and maybe she was, but the man sure as shit deserved a better life. All of these people did, and maybe at long last, they could finally have it.

  That was, of course, if everything went the way it was supposed to go.

  I walked up the platform to my ship, spotting Freddie on the second floor of the cargo bay. He waved at me, already in his environmental suit.

  “Is it just you so far?” I asked from below the stairs.

  “Abigail’s on the bridge, and I believe Lucia and Dressler are on the way.”

  “Good,” I said, making my way up to the second floor. “Have them suit up when they get here. We need to be ready to go the second we hit the ground.”

  “Will do, Captain,” said Freddie.

  “Mr. Hughes!” called a familiar voice from outside the ship. I looked down to see Lex racing onto the lift and into the cargo hold.

  Hitchens was right behind her, trying to keep up. “Lex! W-Wait for me!”

  The girl was fast, heading straight for the stairs. She climbed up and plopped her feet on the top step, barely winded, and threw her hands on her hips. “Where are you going, Mr. Hughes?” she asked, regarding me with a stern look that suggested I’d best watch myself. “And where’s Abby at?”

  I tussled her hair. “Sorry, kid. We’ve got a job to do right now.”

  “What kind of job? Can I go?”

  “L-Lex!” called Hitchens. He arrived in front of the stairs, wheezing and with a ring of sweat around his neck. “I-I’m so sorry, Captain. I tried to keep her in the classroom, but—” He took a breath. “—she overheard one of the engineers and—”

  I waved a hand at him. “Don’t worry about it, Professor. It’s fine. Lex ain’t one to be fooled, are you, kid?”

  She nodded, firmly. “That’s right!”

  We both snickered, like a pair of thieves. “Tell you what,” I said to her. “You can stay here for the next hour, but then you gotta head back with Hitchens.”

  “Aw, but why can’t I stay?” she asked, frowning. “I wanna see what you’re doing.”

  I shook my head. “It’s too dangerous down there. Lots of bad stuff, and we can’t risk you getting hurt. Besides, Abby would kill me if anything happened to you.”

  “Yeah, she would,” said Lex, nodding along.

  “So, that’s the deal, okay? An hour on the ship and you go back to school.”

  “Okay,” she muttered, trying to hide her disappointment before smiling again. “One hour of fun!”

  I leaned over the railing and waved at Hitchens. “Come back in fifty minutes, Professor. We’ll—”

  “An hour!” corrected Lex.

  “Right,” I acknowledged. “Come back in one hour.”

  * * *

  We spent the time watching cartoons. The old ones from when I was a kid.

  Lex didn’t mind. She laughed along, the same way I used to.

  Abigail joined us, sitting on my other side. I felt tucked between the two of them, there on my sofa, and for a little while I forgot about the job ahead.

  The time flew by with laughter, mostly from Lex, but a little from Abby and me. Before the hour was up, Freddie arrived to join us, quietly taking a seat near the food cabinet. After only a minute, Abigail waved at him to join us, and he cheerfully did, a wide grin on his face.

  I couldn’t say I minded much.

  In fact, I couldn’t say I minded any of it at all.

  Hitchens showed up right on time, calling Lex away. I told him to wait for us in the landing bay outside the ship, and I took Lex by the hand and led her out of the lounge, while Abigail and Freddie got back to work.

  When we were in the hallway, only a few meters from the door to the cargo hold, I felt her grip my fingers tight, and she paused, planting her feet.

  I looked down at her, raising my brow. “Something wrong?” I asked.

  “Are you, um...” She hesitated, looking away from me. “Is the Union coming? Is that why you have to go?”

  The question surprised me. She’d gone the entire hour without bringing any of this up. “Did someone tell you the Union was here?”

  “I heard one of the other kids say it in class,” she explained. “It’s true, isn’t it? You have to go because of them.”

  I removed two pieces of candy from my side pocket, offering one of them to her. She didn’t take it, but kept her eyes locked with mine instead. After a second, I lowered the sweets and sighed. “Yeah, Lex,” I finally said. “That’s right.”

  “I thought so,” she muttered, dropping her eyes to the floor. They glimmered as tears began to form.

  “Stop it,” I snapped, without even thinking. “Don’t cry.”

  “But I—”

  “Well, I said not to,” I demanded, towering over her. “You hear me?”

  She nodded, but then began to shake, and the tears came anyway. One right after the other. “I-I’m sorry, Mr. Hughes…I’m s-sorry, I…”

  I felt my throat tense up, like there was something stuck in it, like I was choking. My face was warm, all of the sudden, and I wanted to run.

  But instead, I swallowed, and then bent down to her, holding her shoulders as she cried. “It’s okay, Lex,” I finally managed to say. “It’s okay to cry. Don’t listen to me. I’m just a big idiot. I don’t know why I told you that.”

  She closed her eyes, shaking her head, trying to stop herself. “N-No, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

  I wrapped my arms around her and brought her close, hugging her the best way I could. “You’re the toughest kid I’ve ever met, Lex. You’re tougher than Abby. You’re tougher than me. If you wanna cry, then you’ve earned the right to. More than anyone else. You understand?”

  I pulled away to look at her, and she nodded.

  “Just make sure that when you do cry,” I went on, “that you let it all out, and you take that grief and you make something of it. Something you can use, and you learn from it. That’s how you survive.”

  “Is that what you did, Mr. Hughes?” she asked, wiping her eyes with both her hands, sniffling as snot seeped from her little nose.

  “Yeah, kid,” I said, getting back on my feet. “That’s what I did.”

  * * *

  I sat on the bridge with Abigail, pouring a drink of whiskey. “Cheers,” I said, clinking our glasses together.

  “Cheers,” she repeated, and together we drank, each of us gasping and licking our lips once we had it down. It burned in all the right ways, lighting up my throat and then my stomach, quickly relaxing me. In about ten minutes I’d feel it.

  “Not bad,” I said, wiping my thumb across my mouth.

  I was about to put the bottle away when she stopped me. “Let’s do one more.”

  I cocked my brow at that.
“Oh? Since when do you do more than one?”

  “This might be the last time we have to go charging into a fight like this, which means this might be the end of our routine.”

  “My routine,” I corrected. “You’re just borrowing it.”

  She scoffed, taking the bottle out of my hand and pouring another glass. “Whatever you have to tell yourself.”

  I smiled as she proceeded to do the same to my cup.

  She raised her glass. “Here’s to, hopefully, the last mission,” she said.

  I nodded, clinking my cup against hers and guzzling down the alcohol.

  We put the bottle away, back to its storage drawer beneath the dash. The motion caused the Foxy Stardust bobble to rattle its little head, calling my attention to it.

  “I meant to ask you about that thing,” said Abigail. “I know you said you found it in a junkyard, but what made you decide to bring it home and stick it on your bridge?”

  I leaned against the nearby chair, crossing my foot with my heel. “Why so interested?”

  “Shouldn’t I be?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “It’s just the first time you’ve asked about it. I wasn’t sure if there was a reason.”

  “It’s one of the many things I’d like to know about you, Jace, but we’ve been a little busy, so I haven’t had the chance.” She smiled, leaning towards me and touching my chest.

  “Oh,” I muttered. “You mean that kind of busy.”

  She brought her lips to my ear. “Not that I’m complaining, of course.”

  I grinned, running my hand along her lower back. “Well, maybe I’ll tell you about it once we’re done here.”

  “I’m going to hold you to that.”

  * * *

  Dressler arrived with Lucia a little while later. “I have something for you,” said the good doctor, handing me a small device.

  “What the hell is this thing?” I asked.

  “That would be a hard light emitter,” she said, snatching it right out of my hand. “I’ll install it for you.”

  “An emitter? What do I need that for?”

  She ignored me, too focused on setting it up to bother answering.

  A brief flash lit up the lounge, startling nearly all of us, except Lucia. Once it settled, I saw the glow of a familiar shape standing before me. “Ah, there we are,” said Sigmond. “I can finally stretch my legs again.”

  “Sigmond?” asked Abigail, who was standing near the cockpit door.

  “Indeed, Ms. Pryar,” he responded, before glancing around the room. “I must say, it’s rather different to be on this end of things. The view seems so limited.” He flickered out of existence instantly, taking us all by surprise. “Ah, that’s more like it.”

  I peered up at the camera near the ceiling. “Are you back inside the ship?”

  “Yes, sir,” he answered. “The hybrid nature of my shell allows for integration between both systems.”

  I looked at Dressler, confused.

  “He can bounce between your ship and Titan, because he’s built from both old and new tech,” she explained.

  “Oh,” I said.

  Sigmond manifested himself in front of me again, a calming smile on his face. “It certainly makes traveling easier,” he said.

  “Quite the engineering feat, actually,” commented Dressler.

  “Easy, or you’ll give him an ego,” I said. “That’s the last thing I need.”

  Abby and I ran our preflight check while the rest of my team took their seats in the lounge, strapping in. Titan was due to arrive out of slipspace at any moment, and I wanted thrusters primed and ready so we could launch out of this Moon and into open space the exact second we were free.

  “Preparing for departure,” informed Sigmond, his voice coming through the comm in my ear. “Ah, now that does feel nice to say.”

  “Feeling a little nostalgic?” I asked.

  “Perhaps so, sir, although I’ve only been sentient for a short while, so I don’t quite know the feeling yet. I’ll have to inform you at a later date.”

  “Don’t worry, Sigmond,” said Abigail. “Give it time and you’ll be a regular expert on human emotions.”

  “I look forward to discovering them.”

  I watched as Titan opened a rift inside the slip tunnel, ripping a hole through the emerald wall. In seconds, I saw the stars appear, surrounded by the void of space. The display beeped, zooming in on a nearby planet. Blue oceans and green land, with a handful of cities strewn across a single continent. It was Perseus alright, another forgotten colony from a long lost era.

  I ran my finger across the holo, checking out the infrastructure. I counted seven major cities, a few of them in ruins. Would this be enough to fool the Union into thinking this was Earth? Both the Union and the Sarkonian homeworlds had more construction than this. Sarkon alone had over fifteen major cities, not to mention all the smaller towns and villages between them. Perseus looked to be a quarter the size, giving me doubts as to whether it would hold up to scrutiny when Brigham showed.

  I shook off the doubt. We had a plan for this, I had to remind myself. All we had to do was stick to it.

  I took the control stick and eased us toward the landing bay opening. “Renegade Star is clear,” I said into my comm, once we were outside Titan. “Proceeding to Perseus.”

  Seven

  Moriarty Juvenile Corrections released me back into the world on October 6. I wore the same clothes I’d brought with me, but somehow the credits in my pockets had gone missing. Lost in storage, the clerk had told me.

  I walked out into the street smelling like stale clothes and old detergent, my head shaved because of a recent lice infestation, and a freshly bruised chin from a morning brawl—a ritualistic send-off from the other boys.

  The clerk had told me to go see my new parole officer over at Vintage Avenue. I’d briefly considered running, maybe check out of this city and head somewhere new so I could get out of the system, just like so many others had already done. It’s not like the adults cared if you didn’t show. They were drowning in work and understaffed, the way I heard it, so a single missing kid wouldn’t even make the radar.

  But I wasn’t stupid like the others. I knew it was better to stay in the system than to leave. Runaways couldn’t purchase off-world visas or qualify for decent jobs, and I’d need both if I was going to be a Renegade.

  Even if I had to plow shit with a shovel for ten hours a day, I’d do whatever it took to get to where I wanted to be. I’d lived on the streets before and I couldn’t say I cared for it, and I sure as shit didn’t like the cell they’d stuck me in, back in Juvie.

  No, I wanted something different. I wanted what my old man promised me, back when he left in the middle of the night, beer and whiskey on his breath and a wrinkled shuttle ticket in his palm. I’d take what he’d promised. I’d get my own godsdamn ticket, and then I’d track the asshole down and tell him what I thought of him.

  Vintage Avenue always smelled like blood and shit, and it always made me hold my nose. Teddy said it’s because there’s a sewage line that runs directly under this street, and it’s so overstuffed with people’s crap that it could burst at any second. I didn’t know much about that, but Teddy was my cellmate and he knew a lot of things.

  I spotted a large sign on a two-story, red brick building, which read, Juvenile Probation Center. A police officer opened the door and walked out, letting it swing behind him and giving me a brief glimpse of the front desk inside.

  I felt my stomach turn as I approached, keeping my distance from the cop as he disappeared around the nearby corner. I touched the door handle, but didn’t open it. Instead, I stood there, half-ready to turn and run away—take off down the street and never come back, just like all those other juvie kids who disappeared the day they got let out. Maybe I could start fresh in another city and grow up selling smoke to addicts. It wouldn’t be so bad as long as I didn’t use them myself. I could save some money and get in with a counterfeiter, maybe
forge myself a new I.D. and get off-world that way.

  I shook my head. Don’t be stupid, I told myself. It’s just the nerves, like Teddy said. Just the nerves making you stupid. Just gotta go in there and talk to this dipshit cop and get yourself one of those sweeper jobs and sign up for school, that’s all. Over and done in ten minutes tops.

  I took a breath, closing my eyes for a second before finally opening the door.

  The second I stepped inside, I felt a stale breeze of artificial air press down on me from the overhead vent. Piss yellow walls surrounded me while an overweight woman with three loud children sat in the corner, doing nothing to calm them while she tried to fill out a form.

  “Can I help you?” asked a man behind the nearby counter. He wore a city uniform and gave me an expression that suggested he was all out of patience today, so I’d better not try anything.

  “Officer Trimpwell told me to come here. I’m from—”

  He slid a pad towards me on the counter. “Thumbprint, please.”

  I hesitated, looking at the screen. There was an oval where my finger was supposed to go. That’s how they made us sign everything. I’d gotten so used to it by now. “Sure,” I said, touching the pad.

  As soon as I did, a green indicator light appeared, and the screen transitioned to show my profile in its entirety. A picture of me from last year sat in the upper righthand corner, taken during the annual eval. I was smaller, shorter, but was otherwise the same. “Jace Hughes, is it?” asked the clerk. “Have a seat and Officer Bishop will be right with you.”

  “Officer Bishop?” I asked, having never heard the name. “I thought I was assigned to Officer Crowley. That’s what they told me before I—”

  “Sit, please,” said the clerk, giving me a look. I’d seen that expression before. If I didn’t do what he asked, I’d probably wind up sitting in a cell again before the day was out.