The Renegade

1. A Foreign World

Smoke vomited from the ship's engine, blinding Logan Craix's vision. He tried to pull up, but despite his efforts, his ship was going down no matter what. The ship communicator no longer rang with instructions from the Galactic Government of Napolo, but instead buzzed with static. The ship began shaking violently and suddenly hit the ground, disrupting the desert clay and causing a dust cloud that would suffocate an entire moon.

As the ship stilled, the power shut down and the smoke began to settle. Logan rose from his seat and left the cockpit. He grabbed a blaster and opened the ship's hatch.

He took his first step onto the planet his coordinator led him to - Earth. A ruthless, but underdeveloped teraign he had heard. It was against the laws of the GGN to have any association with this place, but he wasn't one to follow the rules. However, he did find it peculiar that the GGN had sought him out to give a secret mission that would, undoubtably, break every law ever founded by the Government. He shook it off. All that mattered was coming out well paid and intact with his life.

After circling around his ship, Logan went back inside to check on the power gage. The Star Cruiser that had shot him down would most likely return to finish the job. The GGN had warned him before he left Napolo that he would encounter resistance. He needed to prepare his ship if a rematch was to take place.

He ripped open the power panel to find his circuits fried. The wires fizzed and spat as he assessed the damage. A small green light blinked repeatedly, indicating that the ship was still receiving power from the core engine. He had power, but the veins that carried it were in no condition to operate. He wasn't leaving the ground. It would take him at least three days to repair the damage. Plus, the ship's left wing looked like it would blow away with even the slightest gust of wind. He couldn't fix this mess on his own.

Static sounded from the cockpit. Logan closed the panel and entered the cockpit to find out who was trying to contact him.

"Napolo Force One, do you read me?" he said into the transmitter.

Static.

"Napolo Force One, this is GGN Mission One-twelve. I've been shot down by an unidentified Star Cruiser and have crash landed on Planet Earth."

More static.

"Do you read me? Napolo Fo--"

He stopped speaking. In the distance, he saw a group of animals, with riders, and were approaching his ship. Fast.

Grabbing his blaster, he ran outside to meet his greeters.

The animals were four legged creatures, with long hair running down their necks. Their riders were definitely human, dressed in little clothing which were decorated with beads and feathers. Logan kept his blaster to his side. They seemed harmless but he would use it if he had to.

When they kept coming at him, and didn't show any intention of stopping, he raised his blaster.

"Stop or I'll shoot!" he yelled.

They didn't stop.

He pulled the trigger, but the blaster didn't fire. It was jammed.

The approaching riders raised up bows and aimed straight for him.

He ran back inside to the cockpit, closing the hatch behind him. The riders began shooting arrows at the window.

"This is ridiculous," he muttered as he attempted to revv up the engine. The lights flickered and the engine rumbled, but the power died as fast as it came on.

Then the riders started yapping in high pitched cheers. They lifted up their bows in triumph.

Logan thought of a new plan. He flipped a switch and fired the ship's gun. The blast missed his target and shot up a cloud of sand. When the dust settled, he saw his attackers running back in the direction they came from.

"Indie," he turned on his earpiece, "where is the nearest location of civilization."

"There is a small underdeveloped town approximately 6.7 miles West from your current position," the female-sounding electronic navigator replied.

"Underdeveloped?"

"According to my current knowledge of this planet, the native people are thousands of years behind in technology and space education. You may not be able to find a mechanic to repair the damage done to your ship."

"Great. Just great," he opened the hatch and grabbed a different blaster. He shot it at a pointy plant.

"This one works," he slid it into his holster.

"Might I ask where you are going?" Indie rang in his ear.

"My only hope is that town, so that is where I am going."

Logan stepped outside again and clicked a button on his glove, closing the hatch and turning the ship invisible. He tapped his earpiece and a protective mask slid over his mouth and nose.

"There is no need for a mask. The oxygen level on this planet is quite breathable."

"I'm not worried about the oxygen," his voice sounded huskier through the mask, "I'm worried about my identity."

"Your identity is in no jeopardy on this planet. It has no record of any association with the Algruadon Creed," Indie reassured.

"You don't know that."

***

A stranger in another world, Logan walked down the boardwalk of the settlement. No land cruisers or hovering vehicles were in sight. Just more of those four legged creatures and riders - fully dressed this time. All the women he saw were engulfed in dresses and large hats. The men wore even stranger looking hats, and most of them carried guns.

Unusual music came from a building on the other side of the street. By the way it was luring other men, Logan concluded it was some sort of gathering place. The sign above it said "Saloon."

"At least they speak English here," he muttered to himself.

Logan crossed the street and entered the Saloon. Inside contained grunged up men, chewing and smoking while playing silly card games. He decided if he left them alone, they'd leave him alone. However, as he made his way to the bar, it seemed like every step he took just drew more eyes to him. His white GGN military suit didn't seem to help either.

"Would you like something to drink," the bartender skanned him up and down, his eyes stopping at the symbol on the left corner of his chest. It was an image of a phoenix above the letters G.G.N. AIR.

"No," he sat down.

"Then I'm going to have to ask you to leave," the bartender glared.

"Why?"

"I serve customers, not whatever you are."

Logan already didn't like him, "I don't want any trouble. I'm looking for someone."

"You heard the man, soldier," the man next to him set his glass down in front of Logon, "order somethin' or leave."

"I would advise you to stay out of this," Logan faced the man.

"Or what?" a larger man sneered from behind him.

Anger boiled inside Logan. He twisted around and drew his blaster. The room silenced and everyone drew their own guns. The only thing that could be heard was the whine of his blaster getting ready to fire.