Star Defender

Copyrighted Material Star Defender Copyright © 2023 by Variant Publications Book design and layout copyright © 2023 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 http://www.scottmoonwriter.com 1st Edition CONTENTS Don’t Miss Out 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 Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Chapter 24 Chapter 25 Chapter 26 Chapter 27 Chapter 28 Chapter 29 Chapter 30 Chapter 31 Chapter 32 Chapter 33 Chapter 34 Chapter 35 Chapter 36 Chapter 37 Chapter 38 Chapter 39 Epilogue Glossary Join the Conversation Connect with J.N. Chaney Connect with Scott Moon About the Authors Don’t miss out on these exclusive perks: Instant access to free short stories from series like The Messenger, Starcaster, and more. Receive email updates for new releases and other news. Get notified when we run special deals on books and audiobooks. So, what are you waiting for? Enter your email address at the link below to stay in the loop. Click Here 1 Xaper was the dirtiest spaceport on the most desolate colony in the AP. Equidistant from Oron Bablish and Jenna’s World, it was the third corner of a stellar triangle. Unlike her sister planets, Xaper was infrequently visited and poorly managed. The place drew traffic because it had cornered the market on minerals and misery. Rich with raw materials, the place was just barely worth a visit for anyone with the courage, skill, and equipment to mine the wasteland. Venomous insects, snakes that both poisoned and constricted, and sandstorms that stripped flesh to the bone were a tough sell to the casual tourist. Locals whispered of an apex predator that came out of the desert once a year, but these stories had the trappings of folklore. Few individuals had the drive to prosper, even though it was possible to grow rich here. Only the toughest men and women thrived on Xaper, each of them looking for a bigger, better deal or a more fantastical adventure. There were worse places to begin recruiting Breaker Combat Technicians or BCTs. Anyone who could handle themselves here had potential—or they had outstanding AP warrants and a strong desire to stay on the run. Heat mirages shimmered in the distance. Dust and sand covered everything, including the inside of my mouth. Thirst dominated my thoughts like I’d never really understood the sensation before now. I dreamed of shipboard climate control and drinking fountains. Nineteen men and women jogged around the remote facility. Sweat poured down their backs—and everywhere else if we were being honest. We’d all be rich if armpit and crotch sweat was worth anything. Katrina Snow, Sergeant Nova, and Agent Fathers stood at one end of the makeshift track, arms crossed like they were following some hidden SOP. Look at those three grumpy gatekeepers. I cracked myself up. How could I be in such a good mood, given the sweltering heat and soul crushing glare of the sun? Who cared? In my experience, it was best to enjoy such moments while they lasted. I stood at the third and final turn and pretended my plain jumpsuit was an accurate representation of my rank. There were no markings of any kind. I was just some poor Xaper schmuck eking out a living. The act was easy. By the time the candidates reached my section of the first test, they lacked the energy for diligent skepticism. “Good work. Keep it up.” I clapped to encourage them. All but one cursed me. A few spat at me. I made a mental note. Woods wasn’t one of the disrespectful jackwagons, and neither was Omar. They had the advantage of knowing who I was. They were also more disciplined and professional. At the outset of this blind test, I’d expected them to outperform everyone. Maybe they would. Several of the locals began the endurance gut check at a foolhardy pace—and were able to maintain it. Surprise, surprise. “I guess fifteen hours a day in the mines improves mental toughness,” I said over comms, careful to speak into my collar when none of the applicants were looking. “That and your promise for full amnesty with the AP,” Nova said. “I still say you don’t have the authority for that.” “No comment.” I watched a tall, thin man who had been leading the pack slow to a walk and wander away from the event like none of us would notice. “There goes a quitter who wants nothing to do with the APOP now,” Fathers said. “Kyn and I can pick him up in the ground car. Check him for warrants.” “Let him go.” I checked Woods and Omar. They were still side by side, keeping an even pace in the intense Xaper sun. “Is anyone else teaming up?” “There are several subgroups. Your people aren’t the only ones to form an alliance.” Snow’s voice cut through the channel with easy confidence. Not much had changed with her despite three years of painting street murals. She had always rubbed some Breaker pilots the wrong way, but I’d found her manner reassuring. Kalchev, Boomer, and Saint loved her like a sister even when she busted their balls—which she did a lot. Katrina Snow was tough. She had a filter. I’d just never witnessed its application. Nova looked up from her fold screen. “That’s five kilometers.” “Give them another five, in the opposite direction.” I watched my team turn the applicants around. Some complained. Others made jokes and jumped around like this