Renegade Runner by Nicole Conway (ebook reader with highlight function .txt) 📗

onto my knees and shrugged out of the strap, passing the weapon over to him. “Can you see anything?” I panted, shambling up to my feet and observing as he took off his helmet and held the weapon up to his shoulder so he could use the scope to get a look around.

The view sucked the breath right out of my lungs.

For as far as I could see in every direction, the rugged landscape wavered in the scorching heat and glittered like a valley of diamonds. The cliffside we’d just scaled was part of a whole network of canyon crevices that zigzagged away like the Grand Canyon. The main channel was wide enough that you could see the bottom, although there were plenty of off-shooting crevices and smaller canyons that cut away through the otherwise flat terrain. In the distance, a few scattered plumes of dark smoke rose from various places. Other crashes? Or battles between runners?

The nearest one seemed to be what Phox was focusing on. It couldn’t have been more than two miles away—close enough we could hear the gunfire and explosions going off. Was it more brawlers? Or something else?

“It’s the Furies,” he declared suddenly, lowering the gun so that I could see the deep creases of worry crinkling his brow.

“The who?”

He nodded toward the rising wisp of smoke. “Faulbender’s Furies. They’re a professional team. Backed with big funding, lots of fan-sway, and owned by one of the prominent Alzumarian figures on the Interplanetary Council—Javaarian Faulbender.”

My stomach dropped. So … the guy who had paid off those brawlers to kill me before was a powerful Alzumarian? But why? I didn’t even know him. I’d never even seen him! What had I done to deserve that? All my memories were coming back, trickling steadily into my healing brain, but I still didn’t remember ever pissing off any prominent alien politicians.

Snatching off my own helmet, I grabbed the weapon out of Phox’s hand and lifted it to peer through the high-powered scope. The screen sharpened and zeroed in on the source of the smoke: two runner crafts that were parked close together. One was already aflame, its engines spitting sparks and fire, while more streaks of colored light zipped back and forth between them. Fire from plasma-beam weaponry?

I couldn’t make out where the shots were coming from. The runners responsible must have been hiding, trying to take out the enemy from covered positions and sneak in a lucky shot or two. How long would that go on? Was it going to be safe to try to get by them? Or were we better off just waiting until someone won and moved on ahead?

A familiar image painted onto the side of one of the runner crafts drew my gaze. The scope focused automatically, sharpening the image and making it all too clear. It was a red horse—a winged horse. Only instead of bird wings like a pegasus, it had been painted with leathery bat wings. Reared up and wreathed in flame, it made for a daunting, but undoubtedly human-made, image. Did aliens even have horses? I sort of doubted that.

“What’s that logo on the side?” I asked.

“I dunno. Some animal, I think. It’s always painted onto Sienne’s ships,” Phox replied. “All the more reason to sit tight and let them clear out before we go any farther, though. If Sienne is running this race, I don’t wanna be anywhere near her.”

A hard knot formed in the back of my throat as I slowly lowered the rifle, letting my eyes readjust as I stared at the distant curl of smoke. The hot wind snagged in my bangs and the stray pieces of my hair that had fallen out of my bun blew around my face and neck. I’d heard that name from the brawlers too. They’d talked about her like she was a legend or something.

“Who is she?” The question left my lips numb. I almost didn’t want to know.

Phox’s tone was tight and reluctant. “A human, like you. Faulbender owns her. Rumor is, he paid to have her illegally harvested years ago and has been genetically modifying her ever since. Like his own little science experiment. She’s a career radiant in the Renegade Run, meaning she’s won it several times. More times than anyone else has in a lifetime, actually. I think her record now is nine straight wins.”

I swallowed hard, trying to get that knot to go away so I could talk without my voice shaking. It didn’t work. “I-I think I saw her. That day, when Rout bought us, there was some footage playing on the screens over that city-place-whatever-it-was. I saw what looked like a human girl. I think she was flying a runner craft.” The memory flickered to life, replaying in my brain. She’d looked young, maybe even close to my age, with short black hair. Had that really been her?

“Probably.” Phox didn’t sound surprised. “She’s a crowd favorite now. Smart money’s always on her.”

Urgency surged through my veins like wildfire. I needed to see her. I had to know if I was right—if she was the same girl I’d seen on the advertisement. Lifting the rifle again, I stared through the scope at the site of the shootout. The flourish and flash of plasma fire still strobed brightly. Meanwhile, more of those hovering orbs, spec-cams, zipped around like hornets to film every moment.

God forbid the fans not get a close-up. Sickening.

“Why would Faulbender intentionally buy a human to compete in the Renegade Run?” I asked as I stood still, tracking the movement of the shots and trying to pinpoint where the figures of the actual runners were hiding. “I mean, if we’re supposed to be so under-evolved and fragile, then why would he buy someone who would probably lose?”

“Because humans tolerate genetic modification a lot better than most,” Phox explained stiffly. “And just because you’re under-evolved doesn’t mean you’re stupid. The opposite, actually. You’re like infants or little kids still learning how everything works. Still