Renegade War: An Intergalactic Space Opera Adventure (Renegade Star Book 15)
J. N. Chaney
Copyrighted Material
Renegade War Copyright © 2020 by Variant Publications
Book design and layout copyright © 2020 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.
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1st Edition
Renegade War
Book 15 in the Renegade Star Series
J.N. Chaney
Book Description
The battle for the galaxy approaches.
Under the guidance of the mythological gods, Jace must travel to Sarkonian territory in search of a woman he has never met. She holds the key to unlocking the Gate of Eternity, and with it, a weapon that may end the Celestials war against humanity.
But nothing comes easy in a galaxy under siege.
Even with the Alliance behind him, Jace and the crew have their work cut out for them. There are secrets still left to uncover, and the next battle could change everything.
Experience the fifteenth entry in the bestselling Renegade Star series from USA Today Bestselling Author J.N. Chaney. If you're a fan of Firefly, Cowboy Bebop, or Outlaw Star, you'll love this epic scifi thrill ride.
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 Union
Renegade Empire
Renegade Descent
Renegade Rising
Renegade Alliance
Renegade Evolution
Renegade War
Renegade Peace (Coming Sept. 2020)
Renegade Star Universe:
Nameless
The Constable
The Constable Returns
The Warrior Queen
Orion Colony (with Jonathan Yanez)
Orion Uncharted (with Jonathan Yanez)
Orion Awakened (with Jonathan Yanez)
Orion Protected (with Jonathan Yanez)
The Last Reaper (with Scott Moon)
Fear the Reaper (with Scott Moon)
Blade of the Reaper (with Scott Moon)
Wings of the Reaper (with Scott Moon)
Flight of the Reaper (with Scott Moon)
Wrath of the Reaper (with Scott Moon)
Will of the Reaper (with Scott Moon)
Descent of the Reaper (with Scott Moon)
Hunt of the Reaper (with Scott Moon)
Bastion of the Reaper (with Scott Moon)
The Fifth Column (with Molly Lerma)
The Solaras Initiative (with Molly Lerma)
The Forlorn Hope (with Molly Lerma)
Resonant Son (with Christopher Hopper)
Resonant Abyss (with Christopher Hopper)
Galactic Law (with James S. Aaron)
Galactic Judge (with James S. Aaron)
Galactic Jury (with James S. Aaron)
Galactic Executioner (with James S. Aaron)
Deadland Drifter (with Ell Leigh Clarke)
Deadland Wanderer (with Ell Leigh Clarke)
Deadland Sentinel (with Ell Leigh Clarke)
Ruins of the Galaxy Series (with Christopher Hopper):
Ruins of the Galaxy
Galactic Breach
Gateway to War
Void Horizon
Black Labyrinth
Imminent Failure
Terminal Fallout
Quantum Assault
Rise of the Gladias
The Messenger Series (with Terry Maggert):
The Messenger
The Dark Between
Star Forged
The Silent Fleet
Dawn of Empire
Worlds Apart
Rage of Night
Heaven’s Door
Radical Dreamer
Cosmic Ride
The Sol Arbiter Series (with Jia Shen):
Sol Arbiter
Intrinsic Immortality
Digital Chimera
Memetic Drift
Standalones:
Their Solitary Way
The Other Side of Nowhere
Forever Family
Contents
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Connect with J.N. Chaney
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Epilogue
Author Notes
Important Characters and Terms
Renegade Star Universe
Join the Conversation
Connect with J.N. Chaney
Preview: The Amber Project
Books By J.N. Chaney
About the Author
Join the conversation and get updates on new and upcoming releases in the Facebook group called “JN Chaney’s Renegade Readers.” This is a hotspot where readers come together and share their lives and interests, discuss the series, and speak directly to J.N. Chaney and his co-authors.
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1
I stood with my hands in my pockets, which were once again empty and devoid of credits.
It had been like this for days.
The money I’d earned from swiping loose items from overburdened tourists had kept me fed for months during the busy season here on Epsy. At sixteen years old, I knew how to take care of myself so long as I had enough good marks.
Recently, though, the supply had dried up enough that I was on the brink of doing something stupid just to get some food in my belly. I had heard the rumors about how the Union was moving in on the nearby systems, confronting the Sarkonian Empire for control of a mining colony. It had nothing to do with us, but it meant less traffic in the ports and hardly any visitors. A lot of rich folks had shut their businesses down temporarily and left the planet, off to some villa in the Degos system. I wished I could just up and leave whenever I wanted.
But that kind of freedom took money.
My stomach growled as I walked along the sidewalk. I’d given up trying to do anything about the pain.
I had to ask myself if
this was all worth it. I’d be eighteen in just over a year. A grown man, legally allowed to apply to leave the planet, whether for work or pleasure. Sure, the jobs might send me to an early grave, but anything was better than this.
I fantasized often of having my own place—not living with five others in a tiny apartment in the worst part of town. But I couldn’t even afford good food or nice clothes. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast yesterday, and that had only been a package of dry noodles.
If I wanted to eat today, I needed to find something valuable to swipe. No more trying to sell cheap stuff to my fence. He hadn’t said it, but I could see that he was losing patience, since he probably wasn’t making much from me.
The public transportation station was as good a place as any to find a mark. People had their faces buried in pads and weren’t paying attention.
That made it a great place for a thief.
There was security, sure, but I’d been here enough to learn where to stand, how to move so no one saw, and when to make the swipe. All I had to do was find one mark with something worth stealing—something to get me through the next couple of weeks.
Dozens of potential targets had walked past. Several carried expensive-looking briefcases.
I was about ready to give up and try a different entrance when I spotted someone I recognized. It wasn’t the perfect hair, the three thousand credit suit, or his garish tie, but more the eyebrows that stuck out and caught my attention. They were well manicured and silver colored.
His name was Whitaker Reed, and he was a local reporter for the Epsy branch of the Union News Network. Reed was on every night, and several of us sat on the floor listening to his mind-numbing voice as he prattled on about the great things the Union was doing for Epsy’s citizens. “I don’t need to remind our audience of the toll the war has taken on all of us,” he’d said recently. “We here at UNN are with you in this time of need and hardship, and we will keep you informed as the news comes in.”
He sounded sincere, but so did every other news anchor. And you couldn’t trust any of them.
I couldn’t imagine how anyone as famous as Whitaker Reed was having difficulty right now, what with all that sweet Union money he must have been taking in, especially when I caught sight of the gleem on his wrist during that broadcast. He’d been wearing a Vitruvius. The way it sparkled and the green ring around the watch’s face gave it away. It wasn’t the most expensive watch I’d ever heard of, but it certainly wasn’t cheap. Crafted from rare elements and sporting its own AI, they were supposed to be a direct replacement for a flesh-and-blood secretary. I instantly hated him.
“Whitaker,” a woman called from thirty meters away. She looked like she was going to push her way through the crowd to get to him but changed her mind. He turned toward her voice, looked around, then waved in her general direction and smiled broadly, exposing his wrist. He was still wearing the watch.
Looked like I had my mark.
Better move quickly, I thought.
The crowd wasn’t getting any thinner, and if he made it past the turnstile, he could be on the next hovertrain in a matter of seconds. I might not get another chance.
I lifted my bag and threw it over my shoulder. It wasn’t much—just a cloth sack with some trash I’d found on the street—but it was enough to make me look like I was just another traveler, hardly worthy of a second glance.
Hurrying through the crowd, I did my best to keep my eyes on the platform so it would look like I was trying to catch a train. I nearly ran into a man when he stopped to pick something up, and then I almost ran into a woman who crossed in front of everyone for no apparent reason.
Whitaker Reed was right in front of me, distracted by someone talking from what appeared to be a small comms device in his ear.
I seized my opportunity and nudged an old man to Whitaker’s left, causing the senior to bump into the news anchor’s side. Whitaker shuffled away, an annoyed look on his otherwise perfectly sculpted face.
I went behind him and shoved him into a larger woman. She swiveled around, huffing as her eyes locked with his. “Hey, watch where you’re going!”
“It wasn’t me,” said Whitaker.
“Sure it was, you—” She paused, blinking at him. “Hold on a second. You’re that man from the holo.”
Finally, someone recognized him.
“Hey, you’re right,” said a man in the crowd. “It’s Whitaker Reed. I saw you on the news last night. Bunch of propaganda.”
“Yeah, that’s that Union anchor!” shouted another.
I slipped in between the fat woman and Whitaker, staying low so that the newscaster didn’t notice me. I gripped his wrist and quickly loosened the watch before slipping the pin through. Then I gave a squeeze to trick his brain into thinking the watch was secure.
And I was on the move again.
I fled through the forming crowd as more people swarmed the reporter.
“Back up!” Whitaker Reed shouted to the group, right as the sound of the arriving train filled the area.
He wouldn’t notice for at least a few minutes. And with the chaos of this platform drawing his constant attention, I’d be long gone before he realized his watch was missing.
As I made my way down the stairs, the Vitruvius watch was heavy in my pocket, and I did my awful best not to smile.
I wanted to touch it—to explore its features and figure out why anyone would spend so much on such a silly thing. But I knew better. It was best to leave it where it was, pretend like you were late for something and hurry away without looking back.
My heart raced and beat against my ribs. Two security guards looked up from a conversation they were having, but neither said a word.
A minute later, I was around the corner of a bank building, and I finally allowed myself to relax. My fence was only about four blocks away, and I was about to make both of us very happy.
The fence wasn’t in the worst part of the city but close enough that I was careful.
He worked in the back of a tattoo parlor. Tattoos had never interested me. It wasn’t so much that I was against them, but I knew myself well enough that I figured I’d regret whatever design I chose. And sure, you could get them removed, but that sort of stuff was expensive, and I’d rather buy myself some bread and a ticket to space.
The easiest way to get to the building was to walk through the remains of several huge factories. It was safe enough in the middle of the day, so I opted for the quicker path.
My stomach ached again as I made my way through the side street toward the factory.
I thought about the buffet—all you can eat for one low price. The hygiene was questionable, what with kids sticking their fingers in everything and plates that weren’t always the cleanest, but I could sit for hours eating all the tasty food I wanted before they finally asked me to leave.
Or maybe I’d get a steak cooked just enough to avoid food poisoning from a Sarkonian restaurant closer to the station. That and a tall pile of sliced dorrel tubers smothered in gravy would hit the spot. My mind was so focused on food, I failed to notice the odd shadow sticking out from the open doorway. A familiar face stepped in front of me, suddenly blocking my path.
“Where you going?” asked Caleb. He was taller than me by at least six centimeters and probably weighed twice as much. We were nearly the same age, but you’d never know it by looking at us. As usual, the red-headed, freckle-faced teen wore a satisfied grin that told me what I was in for.
“Yeah, where you goin’?” another voice said from somewhere behind him. I didn’t have to see his face to know it was Eli, Caleb’s longtime accomplice. Wherever one was, the other was sure to follow.
I took a step back and cursed as I realized I’d touched my pocket to make sure the watch was still there. Caleb’s eyes flashed as he seemed to take notice, and he took a step forward.
“Found something good?” he asked, leering at my side. “How’s about you hand it over, and I don’t break your fingers. Sure would b
e hard griftin’ with broken pinchers, wouldn’t it?”
“Yeah, it would be,” I replied, debating whether or not I should just start running and hope my tired and hungry body could beat them.
“So?” he asked, holding out his hand like he expected me to drop my prize in it. His other, I noticed, was curled into a massive fist. The threat was clear, so I had to decide.
“Sorry, Caleb,” I said. “Maybe next—”
I’d never thought someone as big as him could be so fast, but a hard punch to my belly changed my mind. It knocked the wind out of me and I fell to the ground, clutching my side. The watch hit the gravel with a clatter, pulling all of our attention to it.
I wanted to reach out for it, but I was slow, desperately trying to pull the air back into my lungs.
“Oh, look!” hissed Eli.
I tried to say something but couldn't get air into my lungs. Instead, I snatched the watch from the rocks then turned and scrambled to get back to my feet. As I did, Eli kicked the back of my thigh and sent me onto the gravel.
“If you scratch it, I’ll make you sorry,” he warned. “Now hand it over.”
“No!” I hurried to my feet, desperate to get away from him. The watch disappeared back into my pocket as I raised my fists.