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

In the seat next to me, Phox gave a snort, like that idea was total ludicrous, as he worked on bringing the ship’s computers back online. He’d paced the length of the ship about a hundred times, talking himself into it. Booting things back up meant Sienne might be able to detect our signal and pinpoint our exact location even in the storm—which was bad. But if we got our basic systems back online, we might be able to guess how much longer the storm would last. Maybe we’d even spot her first. A dangerous gamble.

“Depends on if we place high enough to see any winnings from it.” He sighed as he worked. “Finishing at all gets you some notoriety, sure. Finishing in the top one hundred qualifies you for the next race. And the official rules state that runner teams are entitled to a minimum of forty percent of their winnings—which will piss Rout off royally. The rest usually gets divided up between the team owners, maintenance workers who prep and build all the gear, and so on. Depending on where we fall in the lineup, we might get a little pocket change. Maybe enough to buy ourselves back from that toad.”

“We can do that?” I couldn’t hide my surprise.

“Oh, sure. Happens all the time. Granted, not usually to trashers. But if you can pay back whatever was spent to purchase and outfit you, then you walk away debt-free.”

“Providing we don’t die a horrible death first.”

“Right.” He smirked. “Who knows? I’m sure the fact that we made it this far has already stirred things up. What with you being a human, too.”

“You really think so?” I had a hard time believing that. I was a nobody. I’d never even set foot off my own planet before, let alone done anything like this. “I thought humans were basically garbage out here.”

“I know so. The lone human girl stolen off her homeworld and sold into the Renegade Run as a trasher, now carving her way up the leader board? The public’s gonna eat that up.” He sounded extra-sure about that. “Everyone loves a good underdog story, right? Faulbender’s made some enemies amongst the smaller Renegade teams. They’d love to see him get knocked off his pedestal by a couple of no-count trashers.”

Somehow, that didn’t make me feel much better. “Why do you think Faulbender wants me dead?”

“You’re asking me?” Phox chuckled. “I’m flattered you think I’m all up to speed in that high-class, true citizen shit, but I’m just a lowly thief, remember? And not even a good one, apparently. If I had to guess, I’d say he doesn’t want another human in the Renegade Run—especially not one who seems to have half a brain and a knack for survival. But don’t take my word for it. Alzumarians always have ulterior motives. They never say what they mean or do what they say.”

I quirked my mouth around as I chewed on the inside of my cheek. That had been my first assumption, too. It was the only explanation I could come up with that made any sense. Too bad it really sucked. I couldn’t relax—not without knowing for sure. “For the record, you do pretty well with the mechanical stuff.”

“Yeah, well, a guy’s gotta eat. And until I can get an Alzumarian Interplanetary Citizenship License, stealing, smuggling, and fixing crap is about all I can do.”

“A citizenship license? What does that mean?”

“It’s the only way you can get anywhere in this system. Literally. You can’t buy, own, or even fly a ship between planets without one. Not legally, anyway. You can’t get a legitimate place to live. You can’t get real work or buy anything on credit,” he explained, his tone grim and thick with frustration. “But to get one, you have to be recognized as an intelligent species, capable of complex and profound thought. Most people get one automatically if their species is already recognized as intelligent by the Alzumarian Interplanetary Council. But people like us—the under-evolved ones—have to apply individually.”

“And I’m guessing we don’t get those licenses often,” I mumbled. Sounded like the perfect tool for extortion, and in a culture that idolized a race where people killed one another for sport, extortion didn’t seem like much of a leap.

“No,” he answered quietly. “You gotta know somebody. I used to have a contact in the licensing office and almost enough cash to pay him off. But this whole debacle has been a … slight setback.”

Slight? That was putting it lightly. Part of me felt bad for him, though. He’d lost everything in the blink of an eye—his ship, his job, and a potential payout that would give him the credentials to get somewhere in life. Now he was stuck in this furnace with me, fighting for his life.

Major setback. Huge.

“Enola said I wasn’t even supposed to be harvested. She said it was illegal to take humans off Earth,” I recalled aloud. I couldn’t help but wonder where she was. Had she managed to survive? Who had bought her? Or was she still sitting in that tower waiting to be purchased and doomed to some miserable fate as a breeder or a miner?

“Enola?” He quirked an eyebrow.

“She was in the cube-thingy next to mine when the dredgers first took me. She said she was an, um, Iche … Ichetharys, I think?” Geez, all these weird alien words were going to fry whatever was left of my mushy, bruised-up brain.

“Smart little lizards.” He nodded like he understood. “She was nice to you, huh?”

“Yeah.” My eyes watered a little to think of her. Wherever she was, I hoped she was at least safe. God, the idea of her being in the wreckage of one of those ships back at the starting line, cast aside like garbage and left to rot in the open. I couldn’t bear it.

Maybe he could tell thinking about her was uncomfortable, because his voice became much softer as he went on