by J. N. Chaney
“You any good at sticks?” asked Matty.
“Not really,” I admitted, having only played the game a few times, back in Juvie. The rules were simple: two teams, one offense, one defense. Every player carries a stick, which are actually called buckers or bucks, and tries to get a ball into the other side’s basket, which is guarded by a goalie. It was fun, but since I’d never played before, the other kids stuck me in the back or made me sit on the sides and watch.
“What about chess?” asked Lawrence.
“Never played it,” I said, which seemed to disappoint him.
“Forget games,” said Bishop. “I’m talking about your skills. What can you do better than most people?”
I had to think about that for a minute. I was plenty good at taking things, but a probations officer probably didn’t want to hear about that. So, what else?
“It’s okay, Jace. You can tell us the truth,” said Bishop. “After all, your talent for thieving is why you’re here.”
My eyes widened at the sound of that. “Thieving?” I asked in a quiet tone.
He nodded. “I was ready to send you to the factory until I read your report. The truth is, that’s where most of the boys end up, but not this group. This one’s full of raw talent.”
I didn’t understand what Bishop was getting at. Was he trying to say that I got this job because I could steal? “What kind of job is this?” I finally asked.
“Haven’t you pieced it together yet?” asked Bishop.
“Hey, I thought this kid was supposed to be smart,” said Matty.
“Like you was any different,” teased Prisby.
I slowly looked at Lawrence, who seemed to be studying me with his eyes, waiting to see what I might say next. I hesitated, but Lawrence nodded, as if to confirm the question I’d yet to ask.
I looked at Bishop. “You want me to steal for you,” I said, finally coming out with it. “That’s it, isn’t it?”
The officer smirked. “There it is. You’re starting to get it now.”
“We’re a crew,” said Prisby. “The four of us. Five if you play your cards right.”
“Play my cards?” I asked. “I’m not in yet?”
The all laughed, except for Lawrence, who only sat there staring.
“Not until after tonight,” said Bishop. “You can back out right now if you want. I’d only ask that you keep all this to yourself. It’s your call, kid.”
Prisby snapped his fingers. “But once you’re in, you’re in. Won’t no one mess with you if you roll with us, Jace. That’s how the crew works.”
“Yeah!” exclaimed Matty.
Lawrence only nodded.
I sat there in silence for what felt like a while, not giving an answer, although I couldn’t say why. Maybe part of me wanted to run again, to get away and just be on my own like I was before Juvie, back when I lived in the street and no one knew my name. But that life had been a hard one, always lonely, always hungry. I wasn’t sure I could take it. Not a second time.
“Guys, why don’t you give Jace and me a second to talk?” asked Bishop.
“What for?” asked Matty, almost insulted by the notion.
Prisby smacked his friend on the shoulder. “Eh, come on, boys. Let’s go see if we can grab some candy from Barny’s before he closes. I’m feeling me some sweeties.”
“Oh, yeah!” snapped Matty. “Sweeties and soda!”
The three of them got up and ran out into the street, leaving the two of us alone on the bench. When we could no longer hear their footsteps or laughter, Bishop continued. “I’m sensing you’ve got questions, Jace. Let’s hear them.”
That was putting it lightly. “You’re a parole officer,” I said, going for the most obvious of my concerns.
He smirked. “You wanna know why I’m doing this. Is that it?”
I nodded.
“I grew up the same streets as you four boys, and you know just as well as I do that they ain’t kind to guys like us.”
“So you got this job to start recruiting?” I asked.
“Nah, it wasn’t like that. Since my records were cleared when I turned eighteen, same as yours will be, I decided I’d go straight for good. I got myself a nice little job at the factory, but it wasn’t the sort of thing I wanted to do. I felt empty. You know what I’m saying?”
I nodded.
“I was good at my job, too. One day, the big boss even asked me to be a floor manager.”
“That’s great,” I said, not fully understanding what a floor manager was. “Did you take it?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I quit the next day.”
I laughed. “What did you do that for?”
“Because I never felt like I was being true to myself,” he explained. “Never felt like I was using my talent. Isn’t that the real reason you stole those meals in Juvie? You probably could’ve found another way to deal with those other boys, but instead you chose to pull off one of the most elaborate heists I’ve ever seen, and you kept on doing it, even though you had all those meals just sitting in your stash.”
I didn’t say anything.
“It’s okay, Jace. So you like to steal. What’s wrong with that? It ain’t like you’re some rapist or a murderer. You’re just doing what you’re good at.”
“But I got caught,” I said.
“Sure,” he agreed. “You fucked up, same as I did when I was your age, but we won’t let that happen again. You do what I say, learn what I teach—” He smirked. “Well, you’ll be set for life.”
Bishop sounded so different right now. More like the rest of us than a parole officer. I felt like I could really trust him, like I could believe in him. “You think I’ve got what it takes?”
He nudged my shoulder. “Trust me, kid. I’ve got a sense for these things. An eye for talent. And right when I saw your file, that eye started twitching.”
I could hardly believe what was happening. “I never thought this would happen today,” I said, letting myself laugh. “I almost walked away. I can’t believe it.”
“Believe it. This is real, Jace. The whole thing.” He smiled. “So, what do you say, pal? Wanna be part of the crew?”
“Yes!” I blurted out, surprising myself with my own excitement. I quickly settled down and straightened up.
“Hey, don’t be ashamed of being excited,” he said, smacking my knee. “This is a big day for you. It’s the day you changed your life. Remember that, alright?”
“I will, Officer Bishop,” I said, smiling.
“Hey, enough of that Officer shit, pal. When we’re not in that building over there, you stick to calling me Jesson. I might be calling the shots and getting us jobs, but at the end of the day, we’re pals. That’s how it is with our crew. Got it?”
“Our crew?” I asked, almost whispering the words.
“You’re damned straight,” said Jesson. “Ain’t no bond stronger than a man and his crew. That’s why there has to be an unbreakable trust there, so don’t go squandering it. You got our backs and we got yours, no matter what. You remember that, Jace. You remember that and you’ll go far.”
Eight
The Renegade Star touched down in a field near the target zone, a towering cityscape overrun with vegetation. The map had called this place New Ithaca, the largest of the seven cities.
“How’s the air out there?” asked Lucia, the second we entered the cargo bay.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, securing my helmet. “You never take your suit off.”
Freddie examined the nearby screen on the wall. “The readout says normal oxygen levels.”
“The Captain’s right,” said Dressler. “You have no idea whether there’s a pathogen in the air or some other toxin. For all we know, the reason there’s no one living here is because some airborne virus killed them all.”
“That seems unlikely,” said Abigail.
Dressler stared at her.
“But I get what you’re saying,” Abby continued. “Better to be safe than sorry.”
> “Exactly,” said the doctor.
“Pardon me, everyone,” interjected Sigmond. “If I might be so bold, I suggest we begin our journey to the terminal location. I estimate it won’t be long before the Union arrives.”
“How much time are we talking?” I asked.
“Less than three hours, sir,” he answered.
I whistled. “Okay, then. Guess that means we’re booking it.”
“You’re sure you don’t want to leave the suits?” asked Lucia. “It would make things easier.”
“Suits stay on,” I said, walking down the stairs to the bottom floor, sidestepping the strike ship in the middle of the room. “Let’s hit it.”
The lift cracked open, letting light into the ship and forcing me to squint. The visor dimmed a second later, but not before I felt a brief moment of warmth from the sunlight grace my face, and I was surprised at how much I missed it.
I hadn’t realized it, but this was the first time I’d been outside, boots on the ground, in nearly a week—at least on a world that was actually habitable.
Back when I was flying around the galaxy, running jobs for scraps of cash, I always found myself touching down on one world after the next, usually a few times a week. It was rare for me to stay in space for longer than that, since so many clients and targets preferred to live on planets, rather than ships or space stations. All that being said, I still preferred living on The Star.
We stepped off the ship and into the small field, littered with yellow flowers and patches of red grass. High above us, towers of ancient metal stood like monoliths, covered in vines that dangled like ragged clothes. Had we landed in a park? Or had something stood here once?
Seeing this place, I wondered if anyone had ever really lived here. The buildings were so old, and the vegetation so overgrown, that it felt more like a set piece from an old movie—never lived in and hardly used.
I tapped my wrist and brought up a holographic map of the planet, zooming in on our location to check the path. We were a short walk from the building with the terminal. Maybe fifteen minutes, depending on the terrain. “Alright,” I said, moving ahead. “Everyone stay close.”
Abigail stayed in the rear, her rifle out and at the ready, while the rest of the team kept to the middle. Freddie was right beside her with a weapon of his own, but Dressler had opted for the pistol, sticking close beside me. Lucia, of course, would rely on her badass energy staff, which was fine with me. She could blow a crater in a building from two hundred meters away with that thing, so I wasn’t about to tell her to use a handgun.
The concrete jungle flickered with reflections as the sunlight broke through the open windows of the towers, dancing along the nearby puddles. “It must have rained before we got here,” said Freddie, peering up at the clouds.
“I believe it was last night,” observed Dressler, motioning with her wrist to the nearest puddle. “The soil’s already started to dry.”
“That’s a relief. I hate walking in the mud,” Freddie complained.
A shadow flickered on the ground, sweeping across the flowers and surprising me. I turned around, following it, only to see something in the sky, flying against the sun.
Everyone else did the same, trying to see what I was looking at. “What is it?” asked Abigail. “A ship?”
“It’s a bird,” I said, observing how it danced playfully in the air, flapping its wings so fast that they blurred.
“That’s curious,” said Dressler. “I wonder how diverse the fauna is on this world.”
“Does it matter?” asked Abigail.
Dressler scoffed. “It most certainly does. If we find ourselves in the middle of a nest of predators, you’ll wished we had performed a proper—”
“Focus, both of you,” said Lucia in an authoritative tone, quickly silencing each of them.
I smirked. “Better listen to the chief or she’ll rip your heads off.”
“Former chief,” corrected Lucia. “And that goes double for you.”
I was about to tell her to blow it out her wrinkled ass when another bird swooped down above our heads, grazing us. Everyone ducked, raising our weapons.
“Where are they coming from?!” balked Freddie.
Right then, I heard a faint noise from nearby, although it was hard to make out. “Siggy, lower the noise cancellation on the suit,” I said.
“Right away, sir.”
I paused, waiting for the helmet to adjust, letting in all the natural sounds of this strange, new world.
Fliff fliff fliff fliff.
Fliff fliff fliff.
There it was, like fluttering wings, and it was coming from inside one of the buildings. No, from above, but from—
All at once, a flock of birds came pouring out from the second story, chirping and gawking as they went.
The birds were large, nearly as big as children, each one possessing heavy talons that looked—well, let’s just call them unpleasant.
I kept my eyes skyward as the flock continued its flight, drawing both pistols in case things went south. Lucia seemed to have the same thought, holding her staff above her head.
But the birds continued on, gliding between the nearby buildings, cawing as they went. I got to my feet, watching until the flock had disappeared, probably back inside whatever rafters they could find.
“Everyone alright?” I asked, not looking down at them.
Abigail stood, sweeping the mud from her knees. “I’m fine.”
“At least it wasn’t a drone this time,” said Freddie. “Or worse.”
“The day’s not over yet,” I said, marching forward.
Abigail laughed. “Always the optimist.”
* * *
After walking down a few streets, we came upon our destination—a curved building that looked more like an egg than a skyscraper, smaller and tucked between several others. “Wow, look at that,” said Freddie, marveling at the oddly-shaped structure. He turned, scanning the rest of the lot for a moment. “And that!”
There was a statue, half worn, resembling some kind of animal. The stone creature showed its large teeth, and seemed to have a fluffy mane around its neck. Beside it, a figure stood, holding a spear, although the end was broken off and he was missing a leg.
“Fascinating,” said Dressler. She turned back to the building, seemingly more curious about that than the statues. “I wonder if all of this was built for aesthetic purposes.”
“Maybe the architect was trying to say something,” suggested Freddie.
“I hope that’s true,” said Dressler.
“Why?” asked Abigail.
“Because it means the Eternals were more like us than we think,” she said. “It means they cared about art, which implies a need for a creative outlet.”
“Is that a good thing?” asked Abigail.
“You don’t think so?” asked Dressler.
“Well, look at the statues,” Abby said, pointing at the animal and the man. “I’m no expert, but that looks a little threatening. He’s holding a weapon. That creature is baring its teeth. They say a society’s art reflects its soul, so what does this one say about the Eternals?”
“That’s a fair hypothesis,” said Dressler, nodding. “However, we don’t know the full context for the artwork. It could be a reference to an ancient story, perhaps a sign of peace, rather than war. Maybe the animal represents unity or some other trait. Perhaps the man and the animal befriended each other. Context always matters, and we can’t presume to know what any of this meant, although I’m certain Athena could shed some light on the matter, once we return to Titan.”
“Let’s save the theories for later,” I cut in, walking up the steps of the building.
“Agreed,” said Dressler, following after me.
The rusted doors had grass beneath them, the glass panes long since decayed. “We can probably slip through here if we’re careful,” I said, bending down to get a better look.
“I’d rather avoid the tetanus,” said Dressl
er. “Not to mention one of us is almost certain to cut our suits open.”
Lucia was standing quietly near the stairs, turning her staff in her hands. “I could handle that for you,” she said.
I raised a brow. “Handle?” I repeated. “I see the way you’re eying this thing, playing with that stick of yours.”
She shrugged. “It would be less of a risk than sliding against the rusty floor.”
“She’s right,” said Abigail.
“If she uses that weapon, it might destabilize the structure,” said Dressler.
“Relax, girl,” said Lucia.
“Excuse me?” said Dressler.
Lucia swung her staff around and tapped a button near the handle. “I can adjust the severity of the beam. Observe.”
There was a short pause as we waited.
Lucia lowered the staff. “I meant, get out of the way and then observe.”
“Oh, woops,” said Freddie, shuffling down the steps behind Lucia.
Dressler gave me a concerned look.
“It’s fine,” I assured her. “Lucia knows what she’s doing. Let’s give her the benefit of the doubt.”
Dressler started to say something, but shut her mouth and sighed, stepping away from the doors. “If this building comes down on us, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
I scoffed. “If it does, chances are I won’t be saying anything.”
The rest of us followed, getting a safe distance from the old woman and her overpowered stick.
“Nothing to worry about,” said Lucia, priming her weapon. A blue light formed at its tip. She twisted the other end, compressing the light into a single point. With the press of her finger, a beam shot straight out of the stick, striking the middle of the doors, cutting directly through the rusted metal. She smiled at the sight, then tilted the staff to move the beam higher up, cutting chunks of the door in the process.
We watched as the laser formed a new opening, although it took some time. I could see Lucia was being careful to aim, constantly adjusting the strength of the beam. After about five minutes, she finally had her opening, ready for use.
“There,” said Lucia, swinging her staff around and placing it on her back. “As I said, I can handle it.”