Nameless: A Renegade Star Story

by J. N. Chaney

  J. N. Chaney

  Copyrighted Material

  Nameless Copyright © 2018 by Variant Publications

  Book design and layout copyright © 2018 by JN Chaney

  This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living, dead, or undead, is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from JN Chaney.

  www.jnchaney.com

  1st Edition

  Books By J.N. Chaney

  The Variant Saga:

  The Amber Project

  Transient Echoes

  Hope Everlasting

  The Vernal Memory

  Renegade Star Series:

  Renegade Star

  Renegade Atlas

  Renegade Moon

  Renegade Lost

  Renegade Fleet

  Renegade Earth

  Renegade Dawn

  Renegade Children

  Renegade Empire (Nov. 2018)

  Renegade Star Universe:

  Nameless

  Standalone Books:

  Their Solitary Way

  The Other Side of Nowhere

  Stay Up To Date

  Chaney posts updates, official art, previews, and other awesome stuff on his website. You can also follow him on Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter.

  I also created a special Facebook group called “JN Chaney’s Renegade Readers” specifically for readers to come together and share their lives and interests, discuss the series, and speak directly to me. Please check it out and join whenever you get the chance!

  For updates about new releases, as well as exclusive promotions, visit the author’s website and sign up for the VIP mailing list. Head there now to receive a free copy of The Other Side of Nowhere.

  CLICK HERE

  Enjoying the series? Help others discover Nameless by leaving a review on Amazon.

  Nameless

  -A Renegade Star Story-

  J. N. Chaney

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  Nameless

  Abigail and Clementine were just a couple of orphans looking for a home.

  But when the two girls witness something terrible, they have no choice but to leave their orphanage and go into hiding. The only person willing to take them in is a man named Mulberry, but his home isn't the safest place for two innocent children.

  Abigail and Clementine quickly discover that their new caretaker is the head of a guild of assassins, and the two are thrown into a whole new life, full of danger. To survive, they'll need to adapt, focus, and learn how to survive, all without losing who they are along the way.

  Discover a world of intrigue, death, and contract killers in this exciting new story from J.N. Chaney set in the Renegade Star universe. If you're a fan of Ender's Game, Firefly, or Altered Carbon, you'll love this exciting new adventure.

  Content Disclaimer

  The following book contains a brief scene depicting child abuse. This occurs in the first chapter. If you are an abuse survivor and do not wish to experience this part of the story, please skip ahead to chapter 2.

  Additionally, this book contains graphic violence, foul language, and tense situations. It is intended for adults over the age of 18 years old.

  Have you experienced abuse?

  If you are an abuse survivor and are experiencing depression or would simply like to talk to someone, there are several resources available.

  For online therapy or counseling, please check out BetterHelp.com. They’ll match you with a professional, licensed counselor right away. You can type to them, call them, or even skype. No matter where you are or what your situation is, help is never as far away as it seems.

  For sexual abuse, check out https://safehelpline.org. Like Better Help, you can Live chat with someone right away, whether on the phone or in chat. Please, do not wait to find help. All it takes is a few minutes to get started.

  For Friends and Family of Abuse Survivors:

  If you know someone who needs help and aren’t sure what to do, please read this article on how to help a friend who is being abused.

  Not sure how to tell if someone you know is suffering from domestic violence? Read this article to learn how to spot abuse, what you can do, and how you should react.

  One

  The refectory smelled like fish and old bread.

  Clementine nudged me in the ribs with her elbow and nodded at the food line. “Hey, Abby,” she whispered. “They got a new serving lady. Check it out.”

  “Really?” I asked, dropping my jaw in disbelief. I glanced up and across the room, spying a woman I’d never seen before. She dropped a scoop of brown sludge onto an eight-year-old’s plate.

  “I heard it’s because the old one was stealing the donations and hiding it in her room,” Clem said with her mouth full of food.

  I glanced at a few of the nuns, who had lined up together near the far end of the dining hall. “Wow,” I muttered and then secretly wondered if the food would somehow taste differently today.

  My eyes flicked upward again. Sister Mable had just entered, holding a pad. It was one of the only tech pieces allowed here. The sisters liked to say that holos and pads were bad for the soul, but Sister Mable used them when she couldn’t find a physical copy of a certain book. It wasn’t too popular with the rest of the nuns, but I didn’t think she cared.

  Another thing she used the pad for was the adoption records. That was why everyone’s eyes were on her at the moment.

  “Good evening, children!” Mable said once she reached the head of the room.

  “Good evening, Sister Mable,” came the mixed response. The younger kids, sitting closer, responded enthusiastically. The older kids only mumbled. After all, we’d been through this routine a hundred or more times, and our expectations were close to zero.

  Mable cleared her throat before speaking. “One of our top donors messaged me to say that they’re coming to visit us tomorrow, so I want everyone on their best behavior when they arrive. They’ll be here in the morning to sit in on your classes. Let’s do our best to show how thankful we are for their generosity.” She smiled broadly, looking over the whole group at once.

  I still wasn’t sure how she did that.

  Mable smiled, and it seemed to set the room at ease. She was older but not gray yet. I’d tried to ask her about her life, but she always changed the subject.

  I liked Mable quite a bit though, as did everyone else in this place. It was hard not to.

  She began to leave, and I jumped up from my seat, moving quickly to intercept. There was still food on my plate, and I knew full well that someone else would gobble it up by the time I got back.

  “Sister Mable?” I called, catching her attention.

  Her covered head whipped around to see me, and she offered me that smile again. It made me feel warm and annoyed at the same time, like nothing I could do or say would affect her at all.

  “Yes, Abigail?” She made a point of greeting every child by name, unlike the rest of the adults. They only remembered a few of us, like how Sister Mackavoy always used Clementine’s name but only called me “child”.

  I flushed and looked at my feet. “These donors coming tomorrow, do you think they’ll, um, want to adopt?”

  Mable tilted her head, pausing for a second before coming closer to lay her hand on my shoulder. “To tell you the truth, they didn’t say. But it’s always a possibility. They already have a child of their own, but they may have it in their he
arts to bring another member into their family. Let’s be optimistic, shall we? One never knows what the future will bring.”

  If they were looking to adopt, it made sense that they would want a younger child. There was a reason why kids older than ten were almost never adopted.

  I smiled but felt a sinking feeling in my chest.

  Mable seemed to read my mind, and her hand squeezed my shoulder gently. “Chin up, Abigail. Keep your head held high. There is a family out there for all of you. We simply need to find it.”

  I scowled. “There was a family for me. They just didn’t want me in it.”

  The squeeze tightened. I looked up at Mable, and she glanced down at me with firm, yet kind eyes. “Then they weren’t the family for you. Stay true to yourself, my dear. The gods always bless those with kindness and honesty in their hearts.”

  I’d heard things like that a hundred times before. Coming from Mable, though, I somehow wanted to believe them. I put on a brave smile, fighting back the tears that had begun to form.

  In a way, I did have a family, even if it was only the other kids in this orphanage.

  Growing up here was all I remembered. I had been given away too young to know my parents. I had vague memories of a brown-haired woman, an uneven smile, and the smell of cinnamon, but I didn’t know if those were real.

  It was probably just a dream.

  I walked back toward the table and got about halfway there when the bell rang, telling us it was time to head back to the dorms. All the children got in line. As I joined them, I felt Clementine’s hand slip into mine, giving me a lukewarm piece of bread.

  “Saved you a roll,” she whispered as we started moving toward the exits. “What was all that about, anyway?”

  “Just needed to talk with Sister Mable about something,” I said, feeling my belly rumble with sudden hunger. I fought the urge to gobble down the bread, choosing to save it for when we were back in our dorm.

  “It must have been important,” Clementine said, careful to keep her voice down.

  “It was,” I whispered back, giving my friend the same warm smile I’d seen on Sister Mable, and suddenly, I felt okay.

  * * *

  I turned in my bed, looking at Clementine in hers. “All I’m saying is that even if we don’t get adopted, we still have the chance to get into one of those Union schools.”

  “What good is that?” she asked.

  “It just means we don’t need a family to make it,” I explained.

  Clementine turned in her bed, and even through the dark, I could see the annoyed look on her face. “Yeah, and you don’t need a stupid flipping shuttle to get to the other side of a planet, but it sure helps.”

  My eyes widened. “Clementine,” I whispered. “You better be careful before one of the sisters hears you using bad words.”

  “And you notice how I’m just an angel when they’re around?” Clementine tucked her hands under her chin and smiled adorably.

  She did have a gift. She could fake the innocent little girl routine on demand. With her smooth skin, full lips, and straight black hair, she looked like one of the angels painted on the windows downstairs.

  Unlike me. I had trouble keeping my unruly blonde hair out of my face. With my pale skin, everyone seemed to take turns asking if I was sick or not.

  Sometimes, I thought it was weird that Clementine and I were friends. We’d had neighboring beds for as long as I could remember, so maybe it was just a coincidence. She was outgoing, impulsive, and energetic, and I wasn’t.

  “It’s just, we’ve been waiting here all our lives, and it makes me think that nobody wants us,” I whispered. I leaned back in my bed, looking up at the ceiling. I couldn’t tell what this room used to be. It was tall, with massive windows that stretched across the whole wall, and long enough to provide space for two rows of single beds.

  “You need to stop it,” Clementine grumbled, laying her head on her hands. “It’s like you’ve given up already. We have plenty of time.” I heard the sound of fabric rubbing on fabric and turned my head to see her stepping off her bed and finding her slippers. “I’m going to get some cookies.”

  I propped myself up on my elbow and tilted my head. “Cookies? You have cookies?”

  Clementine was already on her feet. “The lunch lady that got fired had to turn in all the food that she’d been saving. I know where they put it. You in?”

  I slipped out from under my blanket and sat up, my feet dangling from the edge of the bed. “I can tell you that the sisters aren’t too happy with girls who wander the halls after bedtime.”

  “All the sisters have turned in for the night already,” said Clementine.

  I leaned forward. “They have a night watch—”

  “I’m going whether you’re coming or not. And I’m not saving any for you.”

  I rolled my eyes before slipping out of bed and finding my slippers. We quietly made our way to the heavy wooden door, which was cracked open at all times. It was a quick trip down a flight of stairs to the kitchen. We scurried down the steps as quietly and as quickly as we could.

  No one was out right now, so we made it to the kitchen in under five minutes. It wouldn’t be long before someone came along, so we’d have to be quick and snag our cookies while the snagging was good.

  The food, mostly donated non-perishables, was stacked high on the shelves. “In here,” Clementine whispered, kneeling under one of the shelves deep in the back and producing a pair of plastic, sealed packets.

  She tossed me one, and I opened it quickly. The smell of the baked goods had my mouth watering, and not only because I’d left my dinner unfinished. The rare smell of cocoa and walnuts made my stomach growl, and I took one of the six treats and crammed it into my mouth.

  “So good,” Clementine whispered, biting into the cookie.

  “Almost makes you happy that they caught her, doesn’t it?” I asked.

  Clementine snickered, nibbling on her second one. “I could eat these all night.”

  “We can always come back down tomorrow night for another—” I paused, my head snapping around to face the door that we had entered the kitchen through. Clementine was looking in the same direction, which told me that she had heard it too; a door opening and closing somewhere close by.

  “Get under the counter,” Clementine whispered urgently, tossing her half-empty packet underneath as she spoke. “If they ask, I’ll just tell them that I came to get some water. They won’t like it, but it won’t be a problem. It’s not like they can tell us not to drink water, right?”

  I shrugged and didn’t argue. Clementine was a quicker thinker and a better liar than me. She was our best chance to get out of this free and clear.

  I ducked under the kitchen counter, grabbing Clementine’s cookies and curling up. I watched the shadows of the room as the distant footsteps grew closer. After a few short seconds, the door swung open, and I saw a figure step inside.

  “Hello?” a woman’s voice asked. “Clementine? What are you doing up and about at this hour?”

  “Sister Mackavoy,” Clementine said, and she sounded surprised. No, almost afraid. “I-I just needed a glass of water. I’ll go back to bed now. Um, if that’s okay.”

  I didn’t like Mackavoy very much. Few of the girls did. I didn’t like how she always seemed to find something for me to do—to keep my hands from being idle, she said.

  Mostly, I didn’t like how she always took Clementine away to her prayer room. She called Clementine her “special helper”, but I didn’t understand what that meant or why she needed one. Later, when I would ask Clementine about it, she would always change the subject.

  “Nonsense, my dear,” said Mackavoy. I could see from the shadows that she had stepped in closer, her hand coming up to stroke Clementine’s hair. “I was just on my way to fetch you.” The sister’s voice had taken on a warm, strange quality.

  “Oh, of-of course, Sister Mackavoy,” Clementine said in a soft, suddenly feeble tone. “If we must.”


  “We certainly must, my dear,” said the sister. “Now, come along.” She wrapped her arm around Clementine’s shoulder, and they started walking toward the door.

  Mackavoy turned back around before they reached the hall to turn off the light. When she did, I saw her pause for a moment, shifting her weight as she leaned in my direction. “Now, who’s there under the counter?”

  I froze with a sick feeling in my stomach. There was no way she could see me, right? I wasn’t moving or making any sounds. I wasn’t—

  “I can see your foot, child,” Mackavoy said, letting a warning note enter her voice. “Come out.” The nun stepped in closer.

  The stern voice jolted me from my thoughts, and I complied quickly. I stood up, still holding both packets of cookies, my back straight as I kept my eyes low.

  Mackavoy shook her head. “I’m so disappointed in you, child. Stealing from the orphanage’s food stores is a very serious offense.” She came closer, dragging Clementine with her, and she grabbed my chin, forcing my head up to look at her.

  She seemed so angry, but there was something more to it, like a hunger in her eyes.

  “Only bad girls steal from the pantry,” she said. “And bad girls must be punished. Wouldn’t you agree?” She glanced over her shoulder at Clementine.

  “Y-yes, Sister Mackavoy,” Clementine said, her eyes wide and afraid.

  The woman turned back to me. “Do you agree, child?”

  “Yes, Sister Mackavoy,” I answered. I tried to swallow but found my throat dry. We never should have come down here.

  “Good,” the sister said. Her finger moved from my chin to my lips, then to my cheek. Her fingernail hurt when she pressed it against my skin, but I tried not to flinch. “Come now, the both of you. We need to see you punished for your transgressions. The gods are not pleased with you, and we must rectify this.”

  She turned around, putting her hand on my shoulder and pushing me in front of her. Oddly, we were heading toward Mackavoy’s room, not the prayer rooms on the other side of the massive building. A cold feeling crept into my gut and spread to my arms.