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Copyrighted Material Star Chaser Copyright © 2022 by Variant Publications Book design and layout copyright © 2022 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 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 “You’re sure this is the world you want?” I asked. Kalchev’s informant hadn’t been as talkative as I’d hoped. Fathers, Yolo, and Kyn had interviewed him individually and in pairs. I was starting to think taking him from Perseus Station had been a waste of time. There were few things cops enjoyed less than getting played by a small-time scam artist. “Yeah, this is the place.” He walked cautiously down the ramp, hesitated at the flight line, then forced himself forward. I watched his nervousness, spotting it easily. He wore a plain jumpsuit and carried a backpack, gifts courtesy of the APOP Soft Touch. Other ships were disembarking their passengers as well. On the far end of the complex, massive pallets of supplies were being loaded onto a large, long-haul starship. No one involved with the vessel appeared happy. I guessed they were traveling across several systems for vital facility repairs at the edge of human space. Some were convicts who had traded freedom for a mission that would take most of the rest of their lives. That serious limitation to transit technology could never be escaped. I was glad our longer trips were short compared to what these people were facing. Every few years, top scientists promised new technologies, but though advancements were needed, no one could improve on the faster-than-light travel that had been used for nearly a thousand years. Ripper looked nervously at a pair of female guards eyeing us. I didn’t know much about the place, only that men were definitely not dominant here. The sentries guarding the small commercial landing pad reinforced that reputation. Exactly the same height, wearing perfect uniforms, and displaying rope-like braids of hair falling down their back. They were at once attractive and intimidating—and I wasn’t exactly a pushover most days. “This is where my sister said to meet her.” His street lingo had slipped during the trip and vanished once we stepped off the ship. I could still hear his rough, uneducated vocabulary and spot his distrustful mannerisms, like the way he checked over his shoulder every so often and rarely responded to polite greetings. “Welcome to Jenna’s World,” the first guard said. “What is the purpose of your trip? Business or pleasure?” “Family reunion, I hope,” he said. The guard narrowed her eyes—kindly, I thought. Did she know him? “I’m dropping one off,” I said, pointing at Ripper. The guard looked me over, her face unreadable. “You’re APOP?” she said as our eyes locked. “I am.” “Shield.” She held out one hand. I pulled my badge from inside my shirt and showed it to her without removing the lanyard from around my neck. She opened and closed her fingers twice in rapid succession, and I understood what the intimidating part of her demeanor was for—not Ripper—me. I found that interesting because any cop in the galaxy would identify him as trouble. This guard looked like a good officer. She did all the right things. Both she and her partner were alert, professional, and displayed an excellent command presence. They were two women who demanded and received respect, no matter who stepped onto the landing pad. The question was, why had they zeroed in on me instead of the career criminal? His flashy, long-sleeved outfit only partially covered his tattoos—void the police and you only live once, with a G-5 syringe and gun graphic visible on his neck and trapezius muscles. Very classy. When a section of his slicked back hair fell even a little out of place, a scantily dressed woman was poised with a rail weapon in one hand and a pair of gambling markers in the other. The second guard studied the ink with interest. They definitely knew he was in the life. Original gangster all the way around the sun. Laugh now, cry later, and show me the money. Ripper looked like he was trying to impress a parole board instead of sneak onto a planet known for law, order, and equality. I lifted the chain over my head and dropped it into her palm. She examined the intricately minted badge without pulling back her hand. Once she had tested the weight of the Alliance of Planets Outworld Police shield, she held it higher, turned it to see it in all angles of light, then passed it to the other guard—who refused to take it for several seconds. When she accepted it, something was weird. “The last group of APOP agents who came here refused to show their badges, only their