CENTRUM INCURSION

©2021 GJ OGDEN

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Contents

Acknowledgments

ALSO IN THE SERIES

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

Epilogue 1

Epilogue 2

FROM THE PUBLISHER

ALSO IN THE SERIES

Also by GJ Ogden

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About the Author

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Acknowledgments

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Other Sci-Fi series by G J Ogden:

The Planetsider Trilogy

The Contingency War Series

The Star Scavenger Series

ALSO IN THE SERIES

Darkspace Renegade

Wolf Squadron

Rogue World

Rikkard’s Revenge

Renegade Resurgence

Centrum Incursion

1

Cad Rikkard threw his controls left and pushed the fighter’s thruster pedal to the metal in a desperate attempt to avoid the incoming missile. The impact warning alarms rang out in the cabin and the missile snaked past his right wing then detonated. Debris clattered against the hull, but with his vessel’s armor shields enabled, there was no damage. Still, the CSF fighter pilots in pursuit were getting closer with each shot. Simple probability dictated that sooner or later they’d get lucky, especially since Cad was almost out of countermeasures.

“You’d think they’d be less cocky, considering we already incinerated seven of their buddies on the way here,” said Alexis Black, who was performing similarly acrobatic evasive maneuvers off to Cad’s left.

“Dexter Stone is proving to be more of a problem than Damien Doyle ever was,” grunted Cad. He then accelerated and resumed course for the industrial factory planet, Pales.

“Better the devil you know, eh?” replied Alexis, though curiously without her usual flippancy.

Cad grunted again but didn’t respond in words. He knew that Alexis’ more serious tone had not been an accident. It was her way of making a point without actually specifically making one. Despite all their efforts and precautions, and despite Cad spending his entire fortune on new upgrades, Stone had still managed to capture him. And had it not been for an unlikely and deeply embarrassing team-up with the Wolf Squadron renegades, Hallam Knight and Dakota Wulfrun, he’d still be in a CSF gulag, hundreds of miles above Earth. As much as he detested the idea, finding a way to reconcile with Dexter Stone might be his only option. This was the point Alexis was making. However, first they both had to survive their current engagement.

Another missile launch from one of the pursuing CSF fighters roused Cad from his thoughts. The weapon had a strong lock and was accelerating harder than the others the CSF had fired. Acting fast, Cad targeted the missile and launched a countermeasure then swiftly adjusted course. The missile took the bait and harmlessly snaked away into space. However, Cad was now down to his last three countermeasures, and he was confident that the pursuing fighters still had a great many more than three missiles to spare. Worse still, Cad’s cannons were already dry and his own compliment of missiles was spent. Alexis’ ship was also out of ammo and they were both dangerously low on fuel as well as Randenite. They’d used the last of their Randenite reserves to create the temporary bridge to Pales, with the aim of resupplying at one of the safe houses the Banker had set up for them. The stealth modifications that the mysterious trillionaire had also made to their fighters had allowed them to approach the planet undetected. However, in a freakishly unlucky coincidence, a Consortium armored Randenite tanker had exited one of the Palean bridges with a four-fighter combat escort almost directly on top of them. Cad’s unique and distinctive ship had been identified quickly and a full squadron of fighters was immediately scrambled from the CSF station orbiting the planet. Dexter Stone was still eager to get his man, Cad realized, and it was becoming increasingly clear that the net was closing in around them.

Ordinarily, Pales would have been far down the list of places that Cad chose to set down, but his options were growing limited. Five of the twelve bridge worlds were already uninhabitable, and two more were decaying fast. The planets in question had been the more lawless outer bridge worlds, such as Minerva and Pomona. These were locations where Cad could easily hide out. Now he was forced to find shelter on the inner bridge worlds, which were not only far more civilized, but also teeming with CSF and local enforcers. Pales was the most crime-ridden and underfunded of the remaining planets, and as such, it was Cad’s best chance of lying low. This was assuming he could shake the CSF fighters on his tail and reach the safe house in one piece.

“We’re going to need to decelerate for entry soon,” said Alexis over their private comm channel. “But I don’t have any ammo left to take down the rest of these idiots on our tail. I’m assuming you’ve got a brilliant plan to deal with them, though, right?”

“Don’t I always?” said Cad, though just as Alexis had remained somber, he also hadn’t spoken his remark in a flippant manner. Cad always had a plan – plans and schemes were what he did best, alongside killing. And while his plan would only delay the confrontation with the enforcers on their tail, it would mean turning the tables on the CSF and allowing Cad to fight on his terms. “Form up on me and get ready to drop your remaining countermeasures on my mark. Set them to overload and to manually discharge after five seconds.”

“Got it,” replied Alexis. Cad immediately saw her ship change course to rendezvous with him. “I can only spare nine seconds on full burn, if I’m going to save enough fuel to decelerate for entry,” she added.

“That will be enough,” replied Cad, finishing the modifications to his three remaining physical countermeasure devices. “I’m sending you the rendezvous heading. Burn for nine then shut down everything but your reactor and the ship’s stealth systems. When the cluster of countermeasures go off, it will temporarily blind the CSF ships. Then when their scanners come back online, we’ll have vanished like ghosts.”

“They’ll still pick up our exhaust trail,” said Alexis. “It may only buy us a few minutes.”

Cad knew this, but a few minutes was all he needed to get clear and get down to the planet. On foot, the enforcer’s greater numbers counted for nothing. Their advanced power armor and sophisticated weapons, on top of their superior fighting skills, would give Cad and Alexis the advantage instead.

“A few minutes is all we need to get to the surface first,” replied Cad, glancing left to see that Alexis had now crept into visual range. However, he also caught sight of something else moving in his peripheral vision. Craning his neck to look behind him, Cad spotted another missile, but this one was streaking after Alexis.

“Alexis, check your six. You have a missile on your tail,” Cad alerted her. Despite his years of training in how to control his emotions, Cad still felt a twinge in his belly as the missile drew closer to Alexis’ ship. Being powerless was one of the few things Cad feared, and right now, he could do nothing to affect Alexis’ fate.

“I see it, but I can’t spare any countermeasures if we’re going to pull this stunt off,” Alexis replied, spinning the nose of her ship to face the incoming missile. “I’m just going to have to eat this one.”

Cad gritted his teeth. Alexis’ ship had its armor shields raised, and he knew it made sense to take the blast on the nose, rather than risk losing her engines, but it was still a huge gamble.

“Those bastards had better follow us down to the surface,” Cad growled, his grip on the control column tightening as the missile continued to gain on Alexis. “They’ll learn the hard way what happens to those who cross the Blackfire Squadron.”

The missile detonated a few meters short of the nose of Alexis’ ship, peppering the armor shields with explosive fragments. Cad could see the fighter physically shudder from the near impact, and he waited, teeth gritted and muscles taut, for Alexis to spin her ship back around and signal she was okay. Finally, after what seemed like a lifetime, the thrusters fired and Alexis resumed course.

“That wasn’t much fun,” said Alexis with her usual vibrancy, though Cad could also hear strain in her voice.

“You’re hurt,” said Cad, sensing the cause of Alexis’ distress. He was still gripping his control column tightly and was on the verge of snapping it due to the strength provided by his armor.

“It’s nothing you can’t patch up,” replied Alexis, this time clearly making an effort to sound calm and collected. She then made another final course correction to fly in close formation with Cad. “I’ll be okay until we’ve taken out these enforcer pilots.”

Cad thumped his console, cracking one of the panels, then drew back his fist, teeth gritted and fire burning in his veins. However, he managed to rein in his emotions and stop himself from destroying his own cockpit. Save it for the enforcers… Cad told himself, synchronizing his systems with Alexis’ ship and preparing to deploy the countermeasures.

“Release the countermeasures on my mark then burn like hell,” Cad said, flexing his thumb and placing it on the auxiliary trigger. He watched the CSF fighters tighten their formation on his scanner, then another missile shot out from the lead ship. This one Cad knew he didn’t have to worry about, because it was about to fly straight through a maelstrom of electronic interference. “Mark!” said Cad, pressing the trigger and releasing his last three countermeasures like mines. He counted down the five seconds and the cluster of countermeasures activated, creating a frenzy of electromagnetic noise. His own systems went haywire, despite the extra shielding his fighter possessed compared to the CSF vessels. Then with a single deft adjustment of his control column, Cad aimed the nose of his fighter toward the rendezvous and slammed the throttle pedal to the metal.

The kick of the engines was savage, and if it wasn’t for his power armor, he would have quickly lost consciousness. Glancing left, he saw that Alexis was still with him, engines burning brighter than a comet’s tail, and he smiled before casting his eyes down to the navigation scanner. The CSF squadron had already disappeared inside a chaotic white noise of interference. The countdown timer on his computer hit nine seconds and Cad’s engines automatically disengaged. Working fast, he then shut down every nonessential system, leaving only his main reactor and the stealth systems active. Looking left again, Cad saw that Alexis’ ship had also gone dark. Without the bright flame from her engines, she was nearly impossible to spot. His own ship, which was between Alexis and the Palean sun, had cast her into shadow. However, even though he could barely see her, Cad knew she was there and that she was still with him. Even the vacuum of space couldn’t sever the connection they had.

With their systems largely shut down, and with the additional armor shielding layered on top of their fighters, Cad knew their heat and EM signatures would be minimal. Factoring in the hard burn they’d just completed, along with the sudden change of trajectory, which the CSF would not have monitored, it would take several minutes for the enforcer pilots to reacquire him. That was all the time he needed to get down to the planet.

However, Cad’s immediate destination was not their safe house. First, he had to take care of the enforcers. Up until as little as a minute ago, Cad had considered that task to be a chore. Yet the CSF’s relentless pursuit, on top of Alexis’ close call, had changed his mind. Killing the enforcers was now no longer merely a necessary inconvenience. For hurting Alexis, he was going to hurt them too. Cad had always considered himself to be a connoisseur of the art of killing. Murder was as simple as pulling a trigger, but what he did was more than mere thuggery. Not this time. Not any longer. Now anyone that came for him and Alexis would be put down in the most brutal manner available to him. And the ten enforcer fighter pilots who had hunted him like hounds chasing a fox would be the first to fall at his feet.

2

Cad remained vigilant as he and Alexis flew low over the rocky terrain of Palean Factory District Kilo Two. The enforcer squadron had pursued them through the atmosphere, as Cad had hoped and expected they would, but they were still two minutes behind. All Cad needed now was to find a suitable site to stage his stand, and the Kilo district was the ideal location. Subjected to a freak meteorite shower four years earlier that smashed through the main habitat domes as well as destroying several factories, the district was all but abandoned. Only some of Pales’ more unfortunate souls dared venture inside the broken buildings now, but thanks to the polluted atmosphere, rivers, and lakes, no one survived outside the protection of a habitat dome for more than a few weeks.

“There, that warehouse should be perfect,” said Cad, tagging the building on his scanner and transmitting the position to Alexis. “Land just outside then gear up.”

“Got it,” said Alexis, who was flying in tight formation on Cad’s wing. “I hope they don’t just choose to bomb the place to dust instead, though.”

“They won’t,” Cad grunted. “Stone still wants to parade me in front of the media and paint himself as a hero. The enforcers will try to capture us first, if they can.”

“And if they can’t?” Alexis replied.

“They won’t get a chance to try a plan B,” said Cad, picking a landing spot and engaging his vertical thrusters to slow his descent. “Because they’ll already be dead.”

Cad kicked out his landing struts and set his fighter down twenty meters from the warehouse. Wasting no time, he grabbed his Black Prince sword and a rifle then opened the rear hatch and marched out onto the soot-blackened rocks of the district’s bleak terrain. Alexis circled around him then descended a few seconds later, like an eagle swooping down on its prey.

While he waited for Alexis to join him, Cad surveyed the remains of the warehouses and the colossal factories, which dominated the horizon in every direction like giant, dirty grey slabs of concrete. Even larger, though slightly more elegant, were it not for the gouge in its side, was the main habitat dome for the district. Cad found it incredible to think that the whole area was now abandoned. Countless billions of dollars, laid to waste by a freak act of nature. He even recalled the day the meteorite shower had happened, and the news stories that told of the unlucky industries which had been obliterated. None of them had been owned or operated by the Consortium. The occasion was made doubly memorable because it had been one of the rare times when Cad had been granted an audience with Damien Doyle. The magnate had gloated about the fact that he’d lost nothing and picked up billions in extra business due to the tragedy. Back then, Alexis had joked that the galaxy’s most powerful man had probably somehow engineered a fake meteorite shower as a way to attack his rivals. However, it had been nature’s wrath, rather than Doyle’s, that had caused the devastation. Yet as he stared out across the Palean landscape, seeing rocks floating through the sky as if by magic, and mountains that appeared to have been flattened by giant bootsteps, he realized that nature’s wrath on that day paled in insignificance compared to the anomalies that were happening now. At one time, his hatred for Hallam Knight had blinded him to what was going on, but now it was impossible to ignore.

“It’s sort of beautiful, don’t you think?” said Alexis, walking up beside Cad with a shotgun resting over her shoulder. As usual, her twin Five-Seven-Sevens were attached to her hips, along with the powerful Bo staff that she was increasingly using to great effect.

“I guess,” said Cad, raising an eyebrow at Alexis. “If you’re into gravitational anomalies and floating rocks anyway. But so long as our ships don’t magically levitate into the air, I don’t really care what else floats around us.”

Cad then spotted blood matting Alexis’ hair and covering the back of her neck. Pulse quickening again, he reached over and smoothed back her hair to see a wound running down the back of her head and neck.

“I’ve stopped the bleeding, and I’ve also had a lot worse, so don’t fuss,” said Alexis, taking Cad’s hand and drawing it away from the wound. “What did Draga always used to say? A bit of pain helps me to focus?”

Cad drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, then grabbed Alexis by the shoulders. “No more pain for us today,” he said, holding her eyes, which began to sharpen as he spoke. The playful Alexis Black was already on the turn and the warrior was coming back to the fore. A boom then thundered across the sky and they both turned to see the squadron of CSF Enforcers soaring down from the upper atmosphere toward them.

“Right on time to die,” said Alexis, stepping back from Cad and loading the shotgun before stowing it on her back. “Any particular plan for how we take them down?” she added, resting her hands onto the grips of her Five-Seven-Sevens.

“Quickly,” said Cad, who then also loaded his rifle and adjusted the position of his sword on his hip. “Quickly and painfully. We need to move out fast, before any reinforcements arrive.”

Alexis nodded then closed the visor of her helmet, making her look more like Doyle’s personal protection bot than the woman he loved and admired. “Quickly and painfully it is, then,” she replied, her voice already flat and emotionless.

Cad turned and entered the warehouse with Alexis close behind as the CSF fighters circled the warehouse above them. Orders were barked over external PA systems, but Cad ignored them all. If these enforcers want me, they’ll have to come and get me...

3

Cad Rikkard was crouched on one of the dozens of empty shipping containers that were stacked inside the warehouse, watching the enforcer squads move inside. The CSF pilots had split into two fire teams of five and were each armed with standard-issue combat rifles. The smog-covered sky of Pales kept the planet in a perpetual dusk, but inside the dank and musty old warehouse, it was blacker than midnight. However, thanks to a tactical drone that Alexis had launched inside the warehouse and that now hovered high above his head, Cad’s visor highlighted each of the enforcer pilots with pixel-perfect clarity. Glancing right, he could also see the location of Alexis Black at the other end of the warehouse, perched high in the rafters above the second fire team.

Cad almost felt sorry for the CSF pilots who had been sent to capture him. These enforcers would have known that they outnumbered the Blackfire Squadron mercenaries by five to one. And as combat pilots, they were a class above the regular enforcers in terms of training and abilities. They weren’t at Vanguard-level, Cad considered, but they were capable fighters nonetheless. Cad felt sure that each and every one of them would have felt confident that the odds were heavily in their favor. Each and every one of them was wrong.

Cad could have taken out the entire fire team from his position on the shipping container. However, despite what he’d said to Alexis about killing them quickly, he’d also instructed her to make it painful too. Five bursts of smart, precision-guided rounds would be quick, but not painful, he realized. And there was still anger burning inside Cad’s gut that needed to be exorcised. It was anger over the embarrassment of his capture, and the humiliation of being locked in a cage like an animal. He was also angry about how it had been Hallam Knight that had helped him to escape. He didn’t blame Alexis for making the deal. If she hadn’t, then he’d still be in a cell now. What Cad was angry about most of all was that he’d had the chance to kill the renegade, and he hadn’t taken it. That was a decision he now bitterly regretted.

Cad had spent the quiet moments alone in his fighter en route to Pales considering the reason why he’d spared the Knight, and the answer always came down to Shelby Rand. The famous scientist had gotten into his head with talk of honor and nobility, and of how Hallam Knight was the better man. It was now about more than simple vengeance to Cad – he had a point to prove, as well as a score to settle. Somewhere along the way, the two had become muddled and confused. In truth, Cad could no longer remember why he was still fighting so hard to take down the renegade, when the likes of Doyle and Stone had wronged him far more. Yet he still couldn’t get Hallam Knight out of his head. He knew he had to face him and finally put an end to their feud, one way or another, or it would drive him mad. Until then, he would settle for taking out his frustrations on the fodder that Dexter Stone had sent to hunt him down.

Cad disabled the precision aiming system on his rifle and raised the weapon to his shoulder. Tracking the lead enforcer from the five-man fire team, he fired a single round, which rang out crisply and cleanly inside the cavernous warehouse space. The enforcer fell to his knees, screaming and clutching his right hand, where Cad had shot the man’s trigger finger and knuckle clean off.

One of the enforcers ran to the injured man’s aid, helping to pull him back and out of the line of fire. The remaining three members of the fire team then ran for cover, flattening themselves against the empty containers. Cad aimed and fired again, landing rounds between the trio of enforcers, forcing them to split up. Across the other side of the warehouse, Cad heard the familiar crack of Five-Seven-Seven pistols, closely followed by distant cries of pain.

Jumping down from the shipping container, Cad landed on the concrete floor with a resounding thud. He heard shouts and barked orders echo around the gloomy space. Then heavy boots scrambled across the floor as the enforcers repositioned themselves to defend against their hidden attacker. Through his visor, Cad could pinpoint the enforcer pilots with the accuracy of a bat’s sonar. Moving around the rear of the container toward the closest of the three enforcers, Cad switched the rifle to his left hand and drew his Black Prince sword. Boots continued to scuff across the dusty floor, and through his visor, Cad could see the three enforcers circling around and closing in on him. Cad continued to stalk them, raising the sword high before quickening his pace. He timed the swing of the blade perfectly to land a precise strike on the leader of the trio as the man turned the corner. Thanks to the alien-alloy blade and Cad’s augmented strength, the enforcer’s rifle was sliced through, then the sword severed the man’s left forearm clean off below the elbow. Cad had vanished into the darkness again before the enforcer’s companions had even seen what had happened. Rifle fire then momentarily lit up the darkness, but Cad was already out of the line of fire and moving around to flank the remaining combatants. Frantic shouts merged with the garbled electronic sounds of messages blaring out from the enforcer’s radios. Then all of these noises were drowned out by the boom of a semi-automatic shotgun.

Cad stowed his rifle in the magnetic mount on his back and gripped the Black Prince sword in both hands. Thanks to the telemetry from the drone hovering near the ceiling, he could see the outline of the enforcers even through the shipping container they were hidden behind. The two enforcer pilots were standing back to back, one of them crouched low, rendering first-aid to the man Cad had dismembered moments earlier. Checking the floor around him, Cad saw a rusted bolt in the dirt by his foot. He picked it up and tossed it over the shipping container. The bolt clattered and jangled across the metal roof of the container, then landed on the concrete floor with a sharp clang. Immediately, the enforcer who was guarding his companions spun around, aiming his weapon toward the location of the noise. In that instant, Cad charged, sword pressed out ahead of him like a lance. He let out a primal roar as he drove the tip of the blade through the enforcer’s back. Surging on even harder, he then impaled the second pilot in the gut as the man rose from helping his injured comrade. Still driving forward, Cad mustered all of the augmented strength available to him to thrust the sword into the wall of the warehouse, pinning the two enforcers against it, like he was hanging a painting. Cad then stood back and watched the grotesque scene as both men writhed and twisted in a desperate attempt to break free. Soon the enforcer pilots fell still, slumped onto each other in a freakish embrace of death. The agonized moans of the first enforcer Cad had injured then caused him to turn around. The man was clutching his severed stump, which had been partially treated and bandaged by his squad-mate, though he was still bleeding out onto the floor. Cad raised his visor and met the enforcer’s eyes, finding them to be oddly devoid of fear. The man didn’t beg for his life, nor did he try to escape. He was already beaten, Cad realized.

Cad was about to recover his sword, when another member of the original five-man fire team hustled around the far end of the shipping container. It was the enforcer who had dragged the first man Cad had shot into cover. Either through bravery or stupidity, this enforcer had willingly wandered back into the lion’s den. The man’s weapon was held ready and he was anxiously calling out for an update through his headset. The enforcer then saw Cad and panic-fired, scoring a succession of hits across his power armor, from chest to thigh. Cad felt the thumps of the bullets as they struck, but none of the projectiles penetrated his dense protective shell. The enforcer lowered his weapon, a look of pure astonishment written across his face. However, Cad did not allow the man another opportunity to fire. Yanking the Black Prince sword out from the wall, he then threw it at the enforcer like a javelin, impaling him through the jugular. Cad grunted and nodded in appreciation of his own skillful, bloody work. Then he again met the eyes of the wounded enforcer, still cradling his bloody stump like newborn baby. The man peered at his fallen comrade, lying in an expanding pool of his own blood, then looked up at Cad, eyes trembling. However, Cad had no need or desire to end the enforcer’s suffering. He would bleed out and die soon enough, and in those final moments, Cad took pleasure in knowing that he would be all the man could think about.

Cad removed his Black Prince Sword from the neck of the dead enforcer then marched toward the sound of Alexis’ Five-Seven-Sevens. His armored boots thudded across the warehouse floor, making it sound like an army was approaching. He followed the breadcrumb trail of blood and bodies, counting three dead enforcer pilots before Alexis came into view ahead of him. Her shotgun lay discarded on the ground and her pistols were holstered at her sides. Instead, she was wielding her electrified Bo staff and fighting the two remaining enforcers at the same time. One was using a metal arm that he’d apparently ripped from a shelving rack, while the other was employing his rifle as a melee weapon. Cad gritted his teeth, wanting to intervene and to help take down these two remaining CSF enforcers, but he fought back the urge. He never used to fear Alexis getting injured or killed, at least not in the way he did now. Yet he had to trust her skill and judgment, even if it made him feel sick to the stomach to watch her in danger.

Alexis parried a baseball-bat-style swing from the metal arm, then thrust a kick into the chest of the second enforcer, driving him back. Whirling the staff around her head, she then swung it at the first enforcer, who ducked, but this skillful evasion only bought the man a single extra second of life. Alexis jumped and corkscrewed through the air before slamming the staff down onto the back of the enforcer’s neck. The crack of vertebrae and crackle of electricity was closely followed by a thump from the body as it hit the ground. Alexis was then struck to the back by the metal arm the first enforcer was using as an improvised weapon. She staggered forward and Cad flinched and tightened his grip on his sword, but again resisted the urge to move in to Alexis’ aid. Though even if he had tried to assist her, there was no need. Alexis recovered quickly, adjusted her stance, then lunged with the Bo staff and struck the enforcer in the throat with the electrified tip of the weapon. The man convulsed violently as a surge of electrical current passed through his body. Alexis held the weapon against the man’s flesh for longer than was necessary to kill him, then withdrew it and allowed the man to fall. The Bo staff then shrank to its more compact size in Alexis’ hand and she reattached it to her armor before noticing Cad and frowning at him.

“How long have you been watching me, peeping Tom?” said Alexis playfully. The immediate danger was gone, and she was allowing her more mischievous side to shine through again.

“Long enough to know that I like what I see,” said Cad, sheathing his sword and walking up to her.

Alexis smiled and held the side of Cad’s face, stroking her armored hand across his scars. Then suddenly, she winced, clearly in pain. Cad remembered her injury and peered at Alexis’ neck, which was still wet with blood.

“Come on, let’s get to the hideout and get you patched up,” said Cad, outwardly maintaining his fearless warrior’s composure, though inside, he again felt a twinge in his gut. “It won’t be long before the local Palean enforcers turn up, or another squad of CSF.”

Alexis nodded then retrieved her shotgun, stowing it on her back. The act of raising her arm to lift the weapon over her shoulder again caused her to wince from the pain of her wounds.

“I have to say, I’m now getting a little tired of being shot or blown up,” said Alexis as they walked side-by-side toward the warehouse exit.

Cad grunted, not wanting to agree for fear of sounding weak, though he’d had similar thoughts. Suddenly, Alexis drew one of her Five-Seven-Sevens and aimed it across the warehouse. Cad grabbed the handle of his sword, ready to draw it and charge at whomever Alexis had seen, before he realized it was the maimed enforcer he’d left alive.

“Don’t worry, that one already knows he’s beaten,” said Cad, removing his hand from the grip of his sword and deflecting Alexis’ aim away from the enforcer. The pilot hadn’t even noticed them and was staggering across the middle of the warehouse, looking lost and confused. Cad then observed that the man was holding something, and as they both drew closer, he realized it was the part of the enforcer’s arm that Cad had severed off.

“Showing mercy. That’s a new one,” said Alexis, not bothering to hide her surprise at the news Cad had left an enforcer alive.

Cad grunted again but continued walking. He hadn’t considered it a mercy to leave the man alive, but now that Alexis had suggested this, he felt less comfortable with his decision. “It wasn’t an act of mercy,” Cad replied a little irritably.

“If you say so,” said Alexis, reattaching the Five-Seven-Seven to her hip, then continuing on toward her fighter with more of a spirited swagger in her stride.

Cad grunted again and sighed, then reached down and pulled the Five-Seven-Seven from Alexis’ hip. He aimed and fired, shooting the enforcer in the temple before placing the weapon back onto Alexis’ hip. She stopped and looked at him with a quizzical, almost amused expression on her face.

“What? He was going to die anyway,” said Cad nonchalantly. He then extended a hand to the exit, inviting Alexis to continue on toward their ships. They were still waiting for them outside in the smoggy Palean air. However, their fighters were now encircled by a crewless squadron of ten CSF ships, each of them standing tall in the darkness like tombstones.

4

Hallam Knight felt a sharp slap land on his backside, and he jerked forward as if stung by a wasp. Clasping a hand to the affected area, he then saw Dakota Wulfrun standing behind him with a smug look on her face.

“Damn it, Dak, that really hurt,” said Hallam, rubbing the affected area of his rump while simultaneously glowering at her.

“Sorry,” replied Dakota, though to Hallam’s ears, she didn’t sound remotely sorry. “It’s just such a tempting target. It’s hard to resist.”

“Try harder…” said Hallam, returning his attention to the renegade heavy fighter that was being worked on by a small army of engineers. Commander Rivas was amongst them. She was sitting high up in the cockpit, while her rag-tag engineering crew, led by the extremely talented Charlie Tucker, set about restoring the ship to working order. This work was much needed, Hallam mused. The vessel had barely held together during the flight from Vediovis to Commander Rivas’ half-finished Darkspace hideout – the last surviving renegade base in existence. As such, Hallam was very happy to see the vessel get the TLC it required, especially since the ship would soon be ferrying them to the Centrum for their final confrontation with the Consortium.

“How are they getting on with the fighter?” asked Dakota. She then threw a couple of chocolate-covered raisins into her mouth from a bag she was holding in the hand she hadn’t used to slap his ass.

“Well, from the outside, it certainly looks a hell of a lot better than it did in the CSF impound,” replied Hallam, deftly stealing the bag from Dakota and pouring a handful of snacks into his palm. “The team that Commander Rivas managed to smuggle here certainly know their stuff, I’ll give them that.”

Dakota grabbed the bag back off Hallam then nudged him in the ribs with her elbow. “What about the new Shelby drive component that Dr. Rand engineered on Vesta. Is that installed too?” she said. Dakota then poured a handful of chocolate raisins into her palm and held the bag far out of Hallam’s reach.

“The doc has been in and out of that ship for the last three days solid,” Hallam said in between mouthfuls of the sweet, chocolatey snack. “She never seems to sleep. I think she’s secretly a warbot.”

“She can certainly be as fierce as one sometimes,” replied Dakota. She then craned her neck to get a better view of the engineering team swarming around the heavy fighter. “Where is she now, though?” she added, evidently expecting the genius scientist to have been amongst the throng of workers.

“She set up a makeshift lab in one of the unused sections of the base,” replied Hallam, throwing the last raisin into his mouth then greedily eyeing up the bag again. However, Dakota was still holding it out of his reach. “Amongst the ten or so words I’ve managed to eke out of her in the last couple of days, she mentioned something about building a Shelby field converter, whatever that is.”

“I’m pretty sure it’s an inverter,” said Dakota through a mouthful of chocolate raisins.

“Inverter, converter, frankfurter… I don’t care, so long as she builds it soon,” Hallam hit back. “This base is starting to feel claustrophobic.”

“I’m going a little stir crazy around here too,” agreed Dakota, noticing the direction of Hallam’s covetous eyes and drawing the bag of snacks further out of his reach. “I say we pay the doctor a visit and find out what’s going on.” Dakota then slapped Hallam’s backside for a second time and cocked her head toward the hangar exit. “Come on, then,” she said, summoning Hallam to follow her as if he were a loyal dog.

Hallam scowled and rubbed his stinging behind, then jogged to catch up with Dakota, making sure to approach on her left side. Dakota was wise to his maneuvers, however, and deftly switched the bag of snacks to her right hand.

“You know how she hates to be interrupted,” Hallam said, still plotting how to get the bag of snacks from Dakota.

“And I hate sitting on my hands doing nothing,” Dakota replied.

Hallam then jabbed a finger into Dakota’s ribs and tickled her, causing her to spasm as if she’d been stuck by a cattle prod. Her hand involuntarily moved to block Hallam’s childish attack, and in that moment, he pounced, capturing the bag of chocolate raisins once again. Before Dakota could do anything about it, Hallam had set off at a sprint in the direction of Dr. Rand’s makeshift lab, holding the prize above his head as if it were a trophy he’d just won.

“Give those back, or it won’t just be your ass I slap!” Dakota shouted after him, also accelerating into a run.

Hallam wasn’t about to give up his prize. He raced through the makeshift base, zig-zagging like he was playing a game of tag, before he rounded the final corner to where Dr. Rand had set up her lab and charged headfirst into a stack of containers. The metal boxes toppled over and clattered across the deck, causing a clamor that would have made a bull rampaging through a china shop sound discreet in comparison. Hallam winced and rubbed his forehead as Dakota charged up alongside, swiping the bag of chocolate raisins from his grasp.

“Ha-ha, you lose!” Dakota yelled at him. Then her gleeful expression was abruptly wiped off her face. Hallam squeezed open one eye, despite the searing pain still shooting through his face, and saw Dr. Rand staring at them from just inside the doorway to the lab. Her arms were tightly folded across her chest and her thunderous expression could have cracked marble.

“I’m afraid since this base was incomplete, we never quite got around to finishing the gym,” said Dr. Rand, taking on the familiar teacherly tone that she often used when scolding Hallam in particular. “But since you’re obviously in desperate need for somewhere to play, you could try an airlock, with the pressure door sealed. That way, I can at least eject you into space if you become too bothersome…” Hallam and Dakota exchanged sheepish glances, while Dr. Rand continued to stare at them expectantly. “Well, I presume you wanted something, or was this just an unhappy accident?”

“We were actually hoping to get a progress update,” said Dakota, stepping closer to the scientist. “We’re not used to sitting around with nothing to do.”

“Clearly…” replied Dr. Rand drolly, before reluctantly inviting them inside the temporary lab.

Hallam followed Dakota inside and quickly looked around. The room was decked out with all manner of tools and equipment, most of which seemed to have been taken from the hangar bay.

“It looks like a mad scientist’s workshop in here,” said Hallam, idly sifting through various electronic components and metal panels on one of the desks. Dakota then nudged him in the ribs and he scowled at her for the third time in as many minutes. She coughed politely but obviously, then nodded in the direction of Dr. Rand, who was looking at him as if he’d just let his dog crap on her lawn. Hallam realized his slip and hastily tried to make up for it. “Oh, sorry, Doc, I didn’t mean you,” Hallam blurted out, noticing that Dakota looked almost more embarrassed than he did. “It’s just that there’s a lot of crazy stuff in here.” Dakota winced and Hallam again realized his slip. He coughed nervously to clear his throat then tried to climb out of the hole he’d just dug himself into. “I mean, not crazy as in mad scientist crazy. Just, you know, a bit strange.”

If anything, Dr. Rand appeared to be mildly amused by Hallam’s embarrassed ramblings and mercifully spared him any more discomfort.

“If you’d like to see what the mad scientist has been creating, then take a look over here,” Dr. Rand said, stepping aside and gesturing to a device on the desk in the far corner.

Hallam and Dakota moved over to it, both of them staring at the object with intense interest. It was a canister about the size of a sixteen-ounce coffee mug, with a slightly wider hexagonal base attached to the bottom, which increased the object’s overall height by around a third.

“This is a Shelby Field Inverter,” said Dr. Rand, answering the question that was on the tip of Hallam’s tongue before either he or Dakota could ask it.

“That’s pretty small for a bomb,” said Hallam, wondering how something so compact could destroy a city-sized space station. “It is a bomb, right?” he added, now unsure whether he’d remembered the purpose of the device correctly.

“A crude, though not entirely inaccurate description,” said Dr. Rand, picking up the Shelby field inverter and scrutinizing it like an antique dealer inspecting a priceless Ming Dynasty vase. “This device itself has very little explosive power. However, if detonated while attached to one of the primary Randenite storage tanks in the Centrum, it will set off a chain reaction that will put even the largest nuclear devices ever conceived to shame.”

Considering what Dr. Rand had just said, the way she was casually holding the device in just one hand was making Hallam extremely anxious. “And that’s a good thing?” said Hallam, taking a small step back from the scientist.

“If this device fulfils its function, as I hope it will, then yes,” replied Dr. Rand, though she came across sounding less sure of herself than usual. “This device contains a small amount of Randenite, which I reformulated in the Consortium lab on Vesta to emit an inverse Shelby field. When detonated and exposed to regular Randenite, the resulting chain reaction will dramatically amplify this field by many orders of magnitude. Considering the vast quantity of Randenite the Centrum contains, the blast should be sufficiently energetic to propagate the inverse Shelby field along all of the established bridges, sealing the tears before they rupture.”

Dr. Rand then placed the device down on the table as if she were setting down an empty coffee cup. The resulting thud on the metal tabletop made Hallam flinch and take another step back.

“Do not be alarmed, Mr. Knight. This device is perfectly safe, so long as it is not activated, of course,” said Dr. Rand, who had apparently noticed Hallam’s skittishness.

“So when do we head out?” asked Dakota, who also appeared twitchy, but for different reasons. During their many idle days on the renegade hideout, reports of gravitational anomalies and instabilities had been growing exponentially. The Consortium, along with every other government body or corporation that operated heavy or super-class freighters, had stepped up the evacuation efforts, but they could still only transport a fraction of each world’s populations. On top of this, the sudden dramatic increase in bridge travel was only serving to accelerate the rate at which the remaining bridges were decaying.

“Mr. Tucker and Commander Rivas will be finished with the fighter by tomorrow,” said Dr. Rand. “Then I will need to test my newly modified Shelby Drive and calibrate its performance over several test runs. In order for the fighter to bridge beyond the Centrum’s defense perimeter, the drive must be tuned to an exceptionally fine tolerance. If it is off by only a fraction of a percent, we will exit the bridge in the middle of the Centrum’s minefield. Or worse, in the middle of the Centrum itself.”

Hallam shuddered. The prospect of dropping out of bridge space inside solid matter didn’t bear thinking about. Before Dr. Rand had sabotaged the Randenite refineries on the bridge worlds, there had once been an accident where a small transport vessel had emerged from the Janusian bridge just as a super-freighter was about to enter it. The transport had dropped into normal space inside the freighter, creating a contorted, fused mass of metal and flesh.

“So what can we do?” asked Dakota, fidgeting on the spot like she had ants in her pants. Dakota had very little tolerance for waiting around, and Dr. Rand’s answer had not offered hope of an end to their boredom any time soon.

“You can stop bothering me, for one,” replied Dr. Rand, more than a little snippily. “I will notify you when we are ready. In the meantime, I suggest you continue to go over the Centrum incursion plans with Commander Rivas, so that you know them like the back of your hand.”

Dakota nodded, though Hallam could see that Dr. Rand’s answer had not done anything to ease her mind or stop her fidgeting. Hallam and Dakota had also already gone over the plans to assault the Centrum a dozen times, to the point where Hallam had found himself playing out the scenario in his dreams. Realizing they weren’t going to get any good news from Dr. Rand, Dakota and Hallam headed for the door, no further forward than they had been when they entered. Hallam had almost set foot outside, when Dr. Rand called out to them.

“When I said the gym had not been completed, I should have mentioned that it was still partially finished,” Dr. Rand said, while working away at her new palm computer. She then tilted her head, peering at Hallam and Dakota out of the corner of her eye. “And I believe that a few of the pilots from three-oh-three squadron are also boxers,” she added with a subtle raising of an eyebrow.

“Thanks, Doc,” said Hallam, stepping out of the door then smiling over at Dakota. “So what do you say to a spot of sparring? Getting knocked on your ass by me a few times might help to distract you from all this waiting around.”

Dakota whacked Hallam on the backside again with another stinging slap of her right hand, then immediately set off at a jog along the corridor in the direction of the pilot’s quarters.

“Don’t worry, I’ll go easy on you,” said Dakota as Hallam tried and failed to pretend that the slap hadn’t hurt. “Last one into the ring buys the drinks…” she added before accelerating and increasing her lead.

“The damn drinks are free,” grumbled Hallam. However, as usual, he couldn’t resist a challenge from Dakota, and quickly set off after her at a sprint.

5

Hallam and Dakota spent an enjoyable couple of hours in the hideout’s part-built gym, assembling a training ring from the components in storage. Two of the pilots from 303-Squdaron had been happy to lend them their gloves, and while they didn’t have all the gear they needed, simply staying busy had helped to keep Hallam’s mind off the upcoming mission.

“I’m beat already, and we haven’t even started sparring,” said Hallam, flopping back into one of the corners of the ring with his arms resting over the top ropes. Sweat was beading on his brow and he felt a touch light-headed.

“You’re just out of practice,” said Dakota, who had already stripped down to her tank top and was pulling on the borrowed gloves. “This will do us both some good, I think.”

Hallam puffed out his cheeks, removed the jacket of his flight suit, then grabbed the other set of gloves off the mat.

“I don’t know how me knocking you on your ass is good for you, but whatever you say, Dak,” he replied, though in truth, he already felt like he’d gone a few rounds.

“Less talk, more sparring, hot shot,” said Dakota, punching her gloves together and beckoning Hallam on.

Hallam slipped on his gloves and stepped out of the corner. The lighting in the gym was patchy and with piles of boxes and crates stacked up around them, and the derelict-looking unfinished interior, it felt like they were in an underground boxing throwdown, except without the crowd.

Hallam advanced cautiously, recognizing the twinkle in Dakota’s eyes, which told him she was fired up and in the mood for a good old-fashioned scrap. He threw out a couple of jabs, using his superior reach to keep Dakota’s fast right hand out of range. Dakota faded back, leading Hallam on, and he jabbed again, probing her defense, but this time, Dakota slipped outside and landed a short right hook to his ribs. The punch wasn’t delivered with much power, but Hallam felt it like Dakota’s gloves were made of lead. Hallam dodged back, but Dakota pressed her opening and advanced, landing a fast jab through Hallam’s guard and following up with a right. Again, Hallam felt both punches harder than he expected and he staggered toward the ropes before collapsing into the corner.

“Wow, you really are out of practice!” said Dakota, smiling at him.

Hallam wafted a glove at her and tried to stand, but his head was spinning, and he only made it to one knee before falling back again. This time, Dakota’s smile fell away, and she rushed to his side.

“Hey, Hal, are you okay?” said Dakota, pulling off her gloves and cradling the back of Hallam’s head in her hand. “You’re burning up; something’s wrong.”

“I feel fine, just a little lightheaded, that’s all,” Hallam lied, not wanting to be made a fuss over.

“Like hell. I’m getting you to Dr. Rand,” replied Dakota. She then slipped under the ropes and helped Hallam out of the ring and onto the floor. With Hallam’s arm over her shoulder, Dakota then hoisted him up. Despite trying to stand on his own, to his surprise, Hallam realized he wouldn’t have been able to get to his feet without Dakota’s help.

“Maybe you’re right,” said Hallam as the two staggered toward the door of the gym. “A quick check-up wouldn’t hurt.”

However, Hallam only made it half a dozen paces before he felt his legs give out from underneath him. His eyes darkened and the last thing he saw was the dusty floor of the gym approaching rapidly as he toppled toward it.

6

Hallam opened his eyes to find himself lying on a bed and staring at a stark white ceiling. Unlike the lights in the gym, the lights in this room were blinding and felt like needles sticking into his eyes. Squinting in an attempt to block out some of the glare, he tried to sit up and felt hands pressing him down. Dr. Rand and Dakota appeared above him, their heads helping to shield his eyes from the bright lights.

“Remain lying down, Mr. Knight. I will adjust the bed instead,” said Dr. Rand. Then the whir of a motor started up and Hallam felt himself being tilted upright. The motor shut off when Hallam reached a forty-five-degree angle. Dakota slid onto the bed next to him then took his hand. She was smiling, but it was the forced sort of smile that someone gave a person when really what they felt was sadness or sympathy, rather than happiness. This only made Hallam feel more nervous than he already did.

“So what’s the prognosis, Doc?” said Hallam, deciding to get straight to the point before the inevitable and pointless questions asking how he felt began. He looked around the room, finding himself to be in a standard ship’s medical bay. Though like the gym and half the other rooms in the renegade base, it was only partly finished and sparsely populated with equipment. “I assume I’m here because something is wrong with me, right?”

Dr. Rand thought for a moment, perhaps contemplating the approach she intended to take when discussing Hallam’s condition, but as usual for the pragmatic scientist, she decided to be direct.

“Your collapse was a result of your earlier high levels of exposure to Randenite radiation, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand with the impassive delivery of a medical practitioner. “The medications I gave you had kept the damage in check to this point, but those supplies are gone. More radical measures are now required.”

Hallam felt Dakota squeeze his hand more tightly, to the point where he almost needed to pull it away from her to save his fingers from being crushed. However, from the look on her face, he figured that Dakota needed to keep a tight hold on him, and so he accepted the pain.

“What exactly does that mean?” Dakota asked Dr. Rand, her voice a little snappish. “What sort of extreme measures are we talking about?”

Dr. Rand rested her palms on the bed and leant forward, meeting Dakota’s eyes first then looking directly at Hallam. Contrary to Dakota’s almost pitying eyes, Dr. Rand did not appear afraid. In fact, she had the look of a commander who was about to lead her troops into battle.

“The simple truth is that the cell damage will kill Mr. Knight if I cannot treat him soon,” Dr. Rand began, and Hallam felt his mouth go dry. This was the first time the scientist had ever mentioned the likelihood of him dying, and though he always knew it was a possibility, the news still hit him hard. “This base lacks the necessary equipment, so we must get him to a suitable medical facility at once.”

“Then let’s go,” said Dakota, finally letting go of Hallam’s hand and jumping off the bed. “Orcus is probably our best shot, right? That’s a whole planet of medical tech.”

Dr. Rand also straightened up, maintaining her determined expression. “The Orcus system is decaying rapidly, and the evacuation effort will make it impossible to move in undetected.

“Fortuna or Janus then,” Dakota countered, sounding impatient and flustered. “Those rich worlds have great hospitals, right?”

Dr. Rand sighed and shook her head. “The recent riots and unrest have filled the hospitals almost to breaking point, and they are also heavily guarded by local enforcers.”

Dakota threw her arms out wide. “Then where!” she blurted out, losing her patience and taking out her frustrations on Dr. Rand. “Come on, we’re wasting time.”

“I have a location in mind, Miss Wulfrun,” Dr. Rand hit back, still remaining calm, though her tone was a touch sterner. The scientist then turned back to Hallam and continued. “There is a non-governmental medical vessel that travels between the bridge worlds, rendering emergency medical aid to those without regular access to healthcare,” Dr. Rand said. The mention of this vessel seemed to calm Dakota down, and she stayed quiet, listening closely.

“Do you mean the Aesculapius?” said Hallam, pushing himself a little further upright. He’d heard of this medical mercy ship before, and even seen it a couple of times, orbiting some of the planets he’d flown to during tanker runs.

“Yes, it is currently in orbit around Liber, treating the evacuees from Vediovis, including those affected by Cad Rikkard’s nuclear attack.”

“But won’t Liber be crawling with enforcers, just like the other worlds?” said Dakota, sounding much more in control of her emotions. However, the timid way in which she’d asked the question suggested she was hoping Dr. Rand’s answer was no.

“There will be challenges involved with boarding the vessel, but as a non-governmental ship, it is not owned or protected by the CSF or Liber’s local enforcers,” replied Dr. Rand. It had become clear to Hallam that the scientist had already given the matter a great deal of thought. And from Dakota’s more relaxed posture and less aggressive tone, she appeared to recognize this too. “I believe I can get us on board,” Dr. Rand added, strangely sounding more confident about this seemingly impossible feat than she had about the likely success of her Shelby field inverter device.

“Okay, I’ll suit up and get one of the renegade fighters on the pad, ready for takeoff,” said Dakota, turning and walking briskly toward the exit.

“Whoa, hold up,” said Hallam, causing Dakota to stop and scowl back at him. “We don’t have time for some glorified humanitarian mission. You have to get the heavy fighter flying and take down the Centrum.”

“No way, Hal, I’m not letting you die, not after everything we’ve been through,” said Dakota, anger seeping back into her voice again.

Hallam sat bolt upright in the bed, already starting to feel a little stronger, and locked eyes with Dakota. “Come on, you said it yourself, both of you,” he said, glancing across to Dr. Rand too. “This is a numbers game, and I’m just one guy. Six hundred million are already dead, probably a lot more by now. How many more lives will be lost by wasting time on me?”

Dakota opened her mouth as if to argue back, but Hallam had used Dakota’s own argument against her, and she could hardly reason that his logic was faulty.

“The fighter is still being repaired and upgraded,” said Dr. Rand, still as calm as the eye of a storm. “Commander Rivas will conduct the initial shakedown tests, so there is still ample time before I am required to calibrate the Shelby Drive. My field inverter is complete. The plans to assault the Centrum are well established. In short, Mr. Knight, we have time. And we are going.”

Hallam physically recoiled from the scientist, eyes wide, as if she’d just given him a dressing down. However, just as Dakota had been lost for words moments earlier, he had no comeback whatsoever. And, as Commander Castell had once said on Dr. Rand’s base, before his untimely demise, it would be easier to talk a shark out of swimming than change Dr. Rand’s mind once it was made.

“I’ll get a fighter ready, then,” said Dakota meeting Hallam’s still startled eyes with a wide-eyed look of her own.

Dr. Rand nodded then glanced back at Hallam, wearing the slightly disappointed-looking frown that she so often gave him. He glanced at Dakota, but she just shrugged, apparently also at a loss for what Dr. Rand was expecting to happen next.

The scientist eventually sighed despondently and said, “Well, Mr. Knight, are you going to lie there all day, or are you actually planning to come with us?”

7

Cad Rikkard heard the clack of Alexis’ boots on the rear ramp of his fighter and pushed himself out of his armchair, eager to find out how her treatment had gone. He waited for her to walk over to him, flexing her shoulder and neck as she approached, then pointed to a silver pot on the table in front of him.

“I made some coffee. It’s still hot, if you want some,” said Cad. He waited for Alexis to plant herself in the armchair opposite then sat down again himself.

“I could probably use something a bit stronger, but I do need the caffeine,” said Alexis, pouring herself a cup.

Cad then held out a small hip flask and offered it to Alexis. “A little pick-me-up, courtesy of the Banker,” he said.

Alexis took the flask, popped open the cap, then inhaled the aroma of the liquor inside. “Amazing what tens of millions of dollars can buy you, isn’t it?” she said before taking a swig directly from the flask. “And this stuff is too good to waste in coffee.” She closed the cap and handed the flask back to Cad, then looked around the lounge area of their new safe house. “How do you think he managed to get all this stuff inside without the Palean enforcers spotting him?”

Cad shrugged while also looking around the room. They were in a repaired section of the main habitat dome in Factory District Sierra Three. Like Kilo Two, where they had fought and killed the squad of CSF Enforcer pilots, Sierra Three was also abandoned. However, unlike Kilo Two, which had to be abandoned because of damage sustained from a meteorite strike, Sierra Three had been mothballed after the destruction of the Randenite refineries by Dr. Rand. The relative scarcity of Randenite coupled with the huge price hikes for the fuel in the wake of the attack had made freight transport prohibitively expensive for many companies. As such, supply of goods had vastly outstripped demand, which had forced the entire district to be mothballed. The tens of thousands of workers from Sierra Three either travelled to the outer bridge worlds for work, or ended up homeless, which was tantamount to a death sentence. Over the years, the dome had been stripped for parts to use in the still functioning habitats, but remarkably, the Banker had still managed to hide a little oasis of luxury inside. It was like Cad and Alexis were staying in a top-end hotel, except without any hotel staff or any other guests.

“Who knows how he did this,” said Cad, replying to Dakota’s question. “He probably has a bunch of officials and enforcers on the books, and just paid them to look the other way.”

Alexis took a sip of her coffee then rested back in the armchair, which was soft and luxurious. “Well, however he managed it, I’m glad. This chair is the most comfortable thing I’ve sat in for a long time.”

“How’s the shoulder?” asked Cad, trying to enquire about Alexis’ injuries as nonchalantly as possible so he didn’t come across as overly concerned.

“Your automated medical bay patched me up nicely,” said Alexis, pulling back the neckline of her shirt and tilting her head so Cad could see the machine’s handiwork. “I’ve picked up a few extra scars, though, like you.”

Cad grunted and drew his coffee cup close to his lips, but without actually drinking from it. The cup remained there for several more seconds, undrunk, while Cad stared into space. His head was spinning with memories of recent events and thoughts, and plans for events that were still to come.

“So when are we going to talk about it?” said Alexis, who had now pulled her legs up onto the armchair. She was poised, coffee cup cradled in both hands, as if waiting for Cad to read her a fireside story.

“Talk about what?” replied Cad, though he knew full well what Alexis was referring to. The slight eyebrow raise and tilt of the head she gave him in return told Cad that Alexis knew as much too, and so he stopped playing coy.

“You were right to use the renegades to help you,” said Cad, though admitting this out loud was harder to do than he’d imagined it would be. “If you’d have come alone, you’d be dead and I’d still be locked up in Stone’s cage.”

Alexis nodded, appearing more than a little impressed by Cad’s candor. Talking things out was not something he and Alexis ever did. There had never really been a need before.

“But you’re angry with me that the deal robbed you of the chance to kill Knight,” Alexis then added, seemingly in an effort to keep the momentum rolling while Cad’s tongue was already a little looser than normal.

“I am angry, but I’m not angry at you,” said Cad, though this just caused Alexis’ eyebrow to raise up a touch higher. Cad scowled and sat up, resting his forearms on his thighs and leaning toward her. “I am not angry at you,” he said again, though this time much more forcefully and with an intensity that left no doubt as to his sincerity. “How could I be, after what you did?”

Alexis smiled then slid off the armchair and strolled over to him. “I’m almost disappointed. I was hoping for at least a little lover’s tiff,” she teased. Alexis then slid down onto Cad’s lap, with her legs resting over the arm of the chair.

“If it makes you feel any better, we can still kiss and make up,” said Cad, allowing himself to sink into the plush fabric again, with Alexis’ arm draped around his neck.

Alexis laughed and kissed him on the forehead then pulled away again. “First, what are we going to do about Dexter Stone and the renegades?” she said, becoming suddenly more serious and clinical, as if Alexis the warrior had momentarily asserted herself.

“Knight is still unfinished business,” grunted Cad, feeling a sudden flush of anger at even the mere thought of the man. “But Rand was right that she is the only one who can stop the collapse of the bridges. Stone is powerless without her.”

Alexis pondered Cad’s response for a moment, which she appeared to find revealing, even though he had not actually answered her question.

“It seems to me we have two options,” said Alexis, finally breaking the silence. Cad’s eyes narrowed and he looked up at her expectantly. “We call another truce with the enemy. We help Rand to destroy the Centrum and prevent the destruction of the bridge worlds. Then we take down Knight and Wulfrun, who will be surplus to requirements by that point.”

Cad grunted again. “And option two?”

Alexis shrugged. “We do a deal with the devil. We’ve already ripped through most of Stone’s elite enforcers. He’s vulnerable and running out of time. He may not want to admit it, but he needs us. And the price will be a clean slate, and an injection of cash to replenish our empty coffers. Along the way, Knight and Wulfrun merely become collateral damage.”

Cad grunted again and sighed before burrowing his head deeper in the warm, luxurious fabric of the chair. At one time, all he cared about was killing Hallam Knight and getting his revenge, and he didn’t care if the worlds burned, so long as he got his victory. His need to deal with Knight had not diminished; it was still like a splinter in his brain, constantly working itself ever deeper, causing a nagging pain that gnawed at his conscious and unconscious mind. However, letting the worlds burn would also mean letting Alexis burn too. Now he couldn’t imagine a time when the prospect of her death would not have affected him deeply, though he knew he had always felt that way. Not any longer, though, Cad realized. Now the thought of losing Alexis was unbearable. He knew that helping Rand might have been the best way to ensure they all survived, but it would also be a betrayal of everything the BlackFire Squadron stood for. And it would also mean admitting he was wrong.

“We’re mercenaries, not freedom fighters,” said Cad, finally making his decision. “We do what we’re paid to do. Let others do what they think is right.” Alexis nodded, though it was the harder-edged Alexis that now lay across Cad’s lap. The fighter had returned. “Besides, we started all this by taking a job from Damien Doyle,” Cad continued, growing more and more confident in his decision with each passing second. “Our mission was to capture and recover Rand for the Consortium, but since we also helped to break her out, Rand is still unfinished business too. We have never failed a mission before, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to start now, even if the worlds are coming to an end.”

A ringing noise interrupted them, and they both looked around the room, unsuccessfully trying to locate the source. It was a strange, organic-sounding noise, far removed from the electronic warnings or alerts that they were used to hearing in their fighter cockpits. Alexis spun her legs off the sofa and stalked around the room, attempting to track the sound. Eventually, it led her to a device on a table several meters away. It was a box that had a slanted front with a dial in the center and a banana-shaped attachment on the top, connected by a wire. Cad watched as Alexis picked up the attachment and tentatively lifted it to her ear. The indecipherable chatter of a distant voice bled out from one end of the attachment, and Alexis’ eyes grew wide as she continued to listen.

“It’s the Banker,” said Alexis. She looked and sounded just as surprised as Cad was to hear the mysterious multi-trillionaire’s name. “He says he has received a call from Dexter Stone, who is trying to contact us. And he asks if you would like him to put Stone through?”

8

Cad held the strange communications receiver in his hand and waited for the Banker to patch through the call from Dexter Stone. However, instead of speaking through the receiver, the ancient-looking communications device projected a holo image of the CSF commandant and leader of the Consortium into the room.

“You’re a hard man to kill, Cad Rikkard,” said Dexter Stone, appearing in his full-dress uniform. Cad almost laughed, wondering whether or not the pompous officer ever took it off.

“Stop trying to kill me, then,” replied Cad, placing the receiver back into its holder and folding his arms to mirror the commandant’s frosty appearance. “You must be getting tired of losing so many enforcers and ships.”

“I am not concerned about ordering soldiers to die, Mr. Rikkard,” Stone hit back. “That is their duty. Mine is to ensure the survival of the Consortium.”

“A task that you would perform much more successfully if you stopped wasting time, lives, and resources in your failed attempts to capture me.”

“I captured you once, I could do it again,” Stone spat back through gritted teeth. “You only escaped because of those renegades!” Then, unexpectedly, Stone held back from continuing his tirade.

Cad had never expected to trade pleasantries with Stone, yet their conversation had become adversarial far more quickly than even he’d expected. Cad had to remind himself of the need for calm, as well as the need to show Stone that he was the one in control. The commandant also took a moment of pause, though Cad could see that he was bristling and ready to hit back. However, he doubted that Stone had gone to the immense trouble and expense of contacting him via the Banker just for a slanging match, and so he allowed the silence to persist until Stone was ready to speak again.

“Anyway, I did not contact you simply to exchange insults, Mr. Rikkard,” Stone went on, pressing his hands behind his back and puffing out his barrel chest. “Dr. Rand’s rescue by the Darkspace renegades, aided and abetted by you, has put me in a difficult situation.”

Cad fought hard to suppress a smile. He could only imagine the grief Stone was getting from the Consortium board of directors, as well as all the local enforcement agencies. Even the Consortium-owned media was beginning to turn on the commandant, after having been promised a triumph and Cad Rikkard’s head on a platter. It was more than just deeply embarrassing for Stone – it was potentially ruinous.

“And how can the Blackfire Squadron help with this predicament of yours, commandant?” asked Cad.

Stone fidgeted and Cad could see the man’s powerful muscles tense up. The commandant coughed nervously, then tried to disguise it, which only turned the noise into a sort of muffled growl.

“I propose that we cease hostilities and reform our alliance,” the commandant said, clearly finding the words difficult to speak. “You have defeated Crimson Lynx, and between you and the renegades you colluded with, my units of Vanguard Enforcers have been decimated too. With my other available enforcers now engaged in urgent humanitarian missions, I find myself again in need of a man of your talents.”

“Go on…” said Cad, still maintaining his standoffish, arms-folded pose.

“It is imperative that I get Dr. Rand back, and since you managed to find her once before, I trust that you can do it again,” said Stone, beginning to sound more comfortable and self-assured again. Cad guessed this was likely because he had not immediately flipped the commandant the bird and told him where he could shove his proposal. “I have a small unit of Enforcer Bots, newly updated versions, not like the ones on the space station. If you agree, they will assist you, under your command, of course. I only need Dr. Rand. Anyone else you can dispose of as you see fit.” Then the commandant’s eye flashed before he added, more pointedly, “And we both know how much you wish to see the back of those renegades.”

“Why not lead these new bots in an assault yourself?” asked Cad, genuinely curious as to why he wouldn’t take the glory for himself.

Stone looked embarrassed again. “I am afraid I suffered several injuries during the attack on the space station,” he said, muttering the admission under his breath. “I am in no condition to conduct this operation personally. Besides, I am needed to manage the crisis.”

Alexis stepped up beside Cad, though there was no indication that she was also visible to Dexter Stone through the Banker’s curious holo device. She raised her eyes, indicating that she considered the opportunity to be worth pursuing.

“If I do this, I want one hundred million, up front,” Cad began, causing Stone’s chiseled jaw to clench up again. “And you will immediately, and publicly, absolve the Blackfire Squadron of any responsibility relating to Damien Doyle’s deeply unfortunate murder.”

“You cannot be serious!” Stone barked, fists clenched, finding himself unable to contain his outrage at Cad’s demands.

“Those are my terms, Mr. Stone,” Cad said, cutting across the commandant. However, his tone was polite, judging it to be a convenient moment to add a touch of courtesy as a gesture of goodwill. “You have betrayed me once already. You can hardly blame me now for seeking assurances.”

Stone sucked in a deep lungful of air and let it out through his nose, making a sound that was reminiscent of a bull snorting. “Fine, I will make the arrangements and contact you when they are done,” the commandant growled. “I don’t suppose you can give me an easier way to get hold of you, instead of having to go through that masked freak again?”

This time, Cad did allow himself to laugh. “As soon as I see my name and Alexis’ name off the most wanted list, and one hundred million in my account, I’ll be in touch.”

“Until we meet again, then,” said Stone, looking and sounding like a man who had just played a high-stakes poker game and lost everything. The holo fizzled off and Cad turned to Alexis, eyebrow raised.

“Wonders never cease…” said Alexis, draping herself over his shoulder. “Though we still can’t trust him. Even if he does clear us of Doyle’s murder, once he has Rand, he’ll try to double-cross us again, probably using those murderbots he’s so proud of.”

Cad nodded while slipping an arm around Alexis’ waist. Stone had given him everything he wanted far too easily, and it was in the man’s nature to deceive and lie. “Stone knows about the bot-hacking device that Falken designed, but I’m willing to bet he underestimated the hacker’s abilities, just as he underestimates everyone.”

“You think the hacker will still work, despite his claims to the contrary?” asked Alexis.

“I think it will,” said Cad, his mind again a whirlwind of thoughts and ideas, though this time all optimistic. “Stone’s scientists have done something to the bots to make him believe they’re now immune, but most likely their solution is just a hack job.”

Alexis shrugged. “I’ll prowl around in the Dark BridgeNet and see what I can find. Since Doyle’s demise, security isn’t what it used to be inside the Consortium. And right now, with all the panic on the bridge worlds, people are much more willing to take bribes.”

Cad nodded again. He had a good feeling about this new direction. It would allow him to capture Rand again, fulfilling his original mission and ensuring he maintained a perfect record. And if they could bend these new warbots to their will using Falken’s hacking device, it would give him the advantage over Dexter Stone, who also deserved to die for his betrayal. Rand would then still be able to fix the bridges, and Cad would finally be able to face Hallam Knight and settle their score, once and for all. It was all finally falling into place.

“I think it’s time that we kissed and made up now, don’t you?” said Alexis, sliding off Cad’s shoulder and sashaying towards the safe house’s elegant bedroom suite. She then stopped at the door and turned to face him. “Unless you’re still mad at me, of course?”

Cad smiled and began walking toward her, lifting the receiver of the antique-looking telephone off the hook and setting it down on the table as he did so.

9

Hallam leant up against the rear of the renegade fighter’s two front seats as they approached the hospital ship, Aesculapius. Dakota had exited their temporary bridge as far away from the usual shipping lanes as reasonably possible, so as not to attract any attention. Dr. Rand, who was in the second seat, had also ensured that their approach had not aroused suspicion by successfully faking the transponder ID of a Liberan Enforcer patrol ship. She was dressed in dark grey scrubs, with the classic white lab coat that had long since gone out of fashion in most medical facilities. However, worn by the venerable scientist, it gave Dr. Rand an added air of authority. Similarly, Hallam and Dakota had managed to borrow some civilian clothing from the personnel on Commander Rivas’ base. The outfit felt strange to Hallam, after spending so long with the feel of weighty renegade armor on his body. It was as if he was somehow floating slightly above the deck.

“That’s a big ship, alright,” said Dakota as they drew nearer to the Aesculapius.

The Aesculapius was the largest ship to still run the bridges between worlds. Super-freighters of a similar or even larger size had once existed, but when the Randenite crisis struck, these leviathans became too expensive to run. The Aesculapius survived only because of charitable donations from the larger bridge world corporations. Damien Doyle had been the principal donor, supplying vast sums of money, as well as Randenite to keep the ship flying. It was just another example of the two-faced nature of the magnate and the super-power-sized company he had built up. Outwardly, the Consortium presented itself as a socially responsible, caring company, while on the inside, it was as rotten as a year-old corpse.

“Imagine if they’d have just mothballed that thing,” commented Hallam, staring out at the behemoth vessel, which was painted all white with a giant red cross on the side. “You could have ditched that monster on the surface of a rogue moon, and it alone would have made an amazing hideout.”

Dr. Rand let out a polite little laugh before glancing back at Hallam. “Ironically, this wonderful hospital ship is actually one of the biggest causes of damage to the bridges,” the scientist said. Her comment surprised Hallam, and from the look on Dakota’s face, she appeared to be similarly shocked. “A single bridge transition by the Aesculapius does about a thousand times more damage than a transition from the smaller freighters and tankers.”

Dakota swiveled her seat to face the scientist, brow scrunched into a frown. “Really? It may be big, but it’s not even close to a thousand times bigger than the armored brutes Hallam and I used to fly.”

“The scale is not linear, but logarithmic, Miss Wulfrun,” replied Dr. Rand with her usual scholarly tone. “The ship is old and its systems have never been substantially updated, due to the prohibitive cost of doing so,” the scientist went on, resting back in her seat and becoming more melancholy. “Many times, I have considered hacking into the ship’s systems and sabotaging its Shelby Drive to prevent it from bridging. However, this ship has been responsible for saving countless thousands of lives, which would have been lost had I rendered it inoperative. I regret now, in light of the millions now dead, that my sentimental decision was not the correct one.”

Hallam sighed, suddenly understanding the scientist’s change of mood. He had to remind himself again of the pressure she was under, and how that pressure was building with each passing day, as the death toll rose higher. It was easy to forget, considering the scientist always conducted herself with such composure, that Dr. Rand believed herself responsible for every death that had occurred as a result of her discovery.

“I have transmitted a request for emergency medical aid,” said Dr. Rand, managing to shake off the dark cloud that had descended around her. “We should hear back soon as to whether that request has been granted.”

The lightheadedness that Hallam experienced in the gym back on the renegade base suddenly returned without warning. He hurried back to his auxiliary seat to the rear of the cockpit, but still ended up practically collapsing into it.

“Hal, are you okay?” said Dakota, unclipping her harness and starting to climb out of her chair, but Hallam held up a hand to stop her.

“It’s okay, it’s passing,” said Hallam, who was feeling a little better now that he’d sat down.

Dakota hovered, seemingly still in two minds about whether to go to Hallam’s aid or sit back down again. However, the bleep of the communications console made the decision for her, and she slid back into the pilot’s seat, still casting the occasional anxious glance back to Hallam.

“Dr. McCoy, this is the Aesculapius,” said a professional-sounding female voice. “We have received and approved your request for emergency use of our Oncology and Radiotherapy department,” the voice continued, eliciting the faintest of smiles from Dr. Rand. “As a result of the current crisis, I regret we can spare few of our medical staff to assist you, but we will do what we can to help.”

Dr. Rand opened a channel back to the ship. “Understood, Aesculapius, and thank you. I should be able to manage the patient by myself.”

“Understood, Dr. McCoy. Please proceed to Docking Garage Seven,” the woman continued. “I am transmitting your landing permit now.”

The channel cut off and Dr. Rand turned to Dakota and then Hallam, smiling as if she knew a secret that they didn’t. When the scientist merely received confused, blank stares in return, she rolled her eyes and huffed a sigh.

“I take it that none of you understood the reference?” Dr. Rand said, sounding disappointed. Hallam shrugged and looked at Dakota, but she looked just as clueless as he was. “Dr. McCoy?” the scientist added, still to blank looks from Dakota and Hallam. She tutted and turned back to face the front, muttering, “Clearly, you two watched the wrong movies and TV shows in Falken’s lair.”

The rest of the journey to the Aesculapius was conducted in silence, save for the occasional exchange of communications between Dakota and the landing controller for Docking Garage Seven. They eventually touched down without incident and were ferried into the enormous garage on the ship’s seventh deck. Hallam counted ten other small freighters and transports inside, many of which were from Consortium-owned businesses, though some bore markings and names that Hallam didn’t recognize too. Dakota shut down their engines and lowered the rear ramp as an orderly began to rush over to their ship, pushing a wheelchair.

“We must still retain a low profile,” said Dr. Rand, climbing out of her seat and moving to Hallam’s side. “This vessel may be unaffiliated with the Consortium or any of the planetary governments, but due to the nature of its current mission, there may still be enforcers inside.”

Hallam nodded then accepted Dr. Rand’s offer of help to stand. He had considered that he might need to “act” ill, but as it turned out, there was no acting required. He was genuinely feeling terrible.

“It doesn’t help that we’re also still on the galactic most-wanted list,” said Dakota, taking Hallam’s other arm and helping him move through to the rear of the ship. “These civilian clothes may allow us to blend in, but there’s no disguising the fact that the most famous woman alive will be walking around the corridors of the Aesculapius.”

“I’m sure I won’t be noticed,” said Dr. Rand, dismissing Dakota’s comment in an offhand way. “The ship will be busy and I’m sure we’ll have no trouble blending in.”

They descended the rear ramp and met the friendly, smiling face of the orderly, who helped Hallam into the wheelchair. The orderly then took one look at Dr. Rand and his eyes widened.

“Hey, you’re Shelby Rand!” the man said, unable to contain his surprise and excitement.

Dr. Rand glanced at Dakota, who had a smug “I told you so” look on her face, then turned back to the orderly. “No, no, not me, though I do get that comment a lot!” the scientist said, faking a laugh while scratching her cheek in a deliberate attempt to hide her face. “The name’s McCoy, actually. Dr. McCoy.”

The orderly laughed. “McCoy, huh? Well, that’s almost as famous!” he bellowed.

Dakota and Hallam again exchanged confused looks, still clueless about the cultural reference that the orderly had clearly understood straightaway. The man then began pushing Hallam briskly toward one of the docking garage’s exits. Considering that Hallam was used to flying at thousands of miles per hour, the speed at which the wheelchair was travelling set his hairs standing on end.

“I’m afraid I can’t just transport you to Radiology and Oncology,” the orderly said. Dakota and Dr. Rand had to practically jog to keep pace with the man. “But I’ll get you there as quick as I can.”

Their rapid progression through the labyrinthine interior of the Aesculapius continued for a couple of minutes, with a brief pause, during which time they had ascended in an elevator to a higher level. The orderly finally wheeled Hallam up to the entrance to the department then stopped. He turned to Dr. Rand and threw up a salute.

“Here you go, Bones, just call down for me when you need beaming up again,” the orderly said, tapping his nametag, which read “Randal Mayflower.” He then smiled at Dakota and Hallam and hurried away.

“Bones!” exclaimed Dakota, clicking her fingers in a eureka moment. “Now I get it.”

However, Hallam still looked like he’d stepped into a parallel dimension. “Is someone going to help me to ‘get it’?” he asked hopefully.

“The only thing you need to get is treatment, Mr. Knight,” replied Dr. Rand, a little snootily.

Hallam was about to protest, when a doctor in a suit and tie with a white lab coat similar to Dr. Rand’s bustled out of the door, peering down at a palm computer.

“Dr. McCoy, I’m sorry to keep you waiting. I’m Dr. Zubrod,” said the man in a well-spoken Mid-Atlantic American accent. “I regret I’m unable to show you around personally, due to the current crisis, but please make yourself at home, and if…”

Dr. Zubrod cut himself off mid-sentence as he finally looked up from the palm computer to make eye contact with Dr. Rand. The look of recognition was instantaneous and obvious, and the doctor wasted no time in highlighting this fact.

“But you are Dr. Shelby Rand,” Dr. Zubrod said with unreserved astonishment. Then the doctor glanced at Dakota and Hallam before turning back to the scientist. “And these are the renegades that all the enforcers are looking for.” The man didn’t phrase this as a question. The doctor sounded as sure of his assessment as Hallam imagined he sounded about his diagnoses.

Hallam and Dakota met each other’s eyes, and he could tell she was thinking the same as he was. They were blown, and they had to get out. The only question was what to do about Dr. Zubrod. Hallam couldn’t stomach the idea of striking a medical doctor in the middle of a crisis, never mind at any other time. However, if Dr. Zubrod raised the alarm, there was no hope of them making it back to their fighter, never mind taking off again.

Hallam grabbed the arms of the wheelchair, ready to propel himself upright. He didn’t have a clue what he’d do once he was standing, or even if he could muster the strength to get himself vertical. However, even if he had managed to stand, what Dr. Zubrod said next would have instantly floored him anyway.

“You must come with me, quickly, before you are seen by too many others,” said Dr. Zubrod, ushering them inside. “I have heard all about your mission and your struggles with the Consortium,” the doctor continued as Dakota moved behind Hallam and began to wheel him through the door. “There are a great many who support what you are doing, but this is a dangerous time, Dr. Rand.”

They continued through the corridors of the department, trying to keep their heads down as much as possible, until they reached Dr. Zubrod’s office.

“Wait here, please, while I check the room where you are to work,” Dr. Zubrod said. He then took the surprised scientist’s hand. “It really is an honor to meet you,” the doctor added. The man then swiftly exited the office, closing the door behind him.

Dr. Rand looked at Hallam and Dakota and shrugged. “Perhaps fame has some advantages after all,” she said.

Hallam laughed and looked at Dakota, smirking. “I told you we didn’t need Bob the bear to bring us good luck,” said Hallam, remembering that their lucky mascot was still sitting atop the control console in the heavy fighter back in the renegade base.

Dakota sat down in one of the office chairs opposite Hallam with a similarly smug smirk on her face. She then unzipped the pocket of her jacket and pulled out the familiar, slightly ragged-looking stuffed toy.

“You were saying?”

10

Hallam opened his eyes and was again confronted with the stark white interior of a medical bay. However, in contrast to the ramshackle facility on the renegade base, this patient recovery room was well-equipped and alive with bleeping machines and medical staff flitting to and fro. Yet even for a busy hospital ship, there appeared to be an uncommon level of commotion, and as Hallam’s eyes adjusted to the bright interior of the room, he could see a red light flashing above the door.

“Hey, is there something going on?” said Hallam, sitting up and grabbing the attention of a nurse that was rushing past his bed.

“A squad of CSF enforcers have just forcibly boarded,” the man said without stopping. “It’s being dealt with, though, so no need to worry. Just remain in your bed and everything will be fine.”

The mention of CSF Enforcers caused Hallam’s pulse to quicken, helping to rouse him from his drug-induced sleep. He remembered Dr. Rand preparing to put him under during the final stage of his eight-hour-long treatment, but he had no idea how long ago that was. Hallam looked around the room for Dakota or Dr. Rand, but neither were in sight. Spotting his borrowed civilian clothing lying neatly folded on the chair next to his bed, Hallam slipped out from under the covers and stood up. The white tiled floor was freezing cold on his bare feet, but the shock, along with his rapidly beating heart, helped to shake the fog from his mind. Even so, he still felt weak, though it was a different weakness from the one he’d felt before he’d arrived. Before the treatment, he was lightheaded and afflicted by a general malaise that felt like he was constantly under the weight of a lead cloak. Now he just felt groggy, as if he’d been roused from a deep sleep and hadn’t yet fully woken up.

Pulling on his pants and shirt, Hallam searched around for his shoes but couldn’t find them. Cursing under his breath, he tiptoed to the door, weaving between the doctors and nurses that were still hurrying in and out of the patient recovery room. Peeking around the edge of the door, he then saw two CSF Enforcers marching along the corridor toward him, armed with sub-machine guns. Cursing more openly this time, he ducked back inside and quickly scouted the recovery room for other exits or somewhere he could hide. Spotting a side room, Hallam ran to it and tried the handle. It opened and he slid inside, closing the door gently as the sound of an enforcer’s voice, heavily distorted and processed through his face mask, filtered into the room.

“You, go and check the next bay along,” the enforcer barked. Then the heavy clump of his boots thudded nearer.

“Hey, nurse or doctor or whatever you are,” the enforcer then said, his voice now sounding louder and clearer. “I’m looking for a patient, Hallam Knight. Is he in here?”

The nurse or doctor that the enforcer had barked his demand at began to argue back and insisted that the enforcer leave. While the two quarreled, Hallam looked around the new room for anything he could potentially use as a weapon. However, as a store cupboard in a patient recovery room, the contents were designed to assist with the healing process, rather than to do anyone an injury. Hallam then spotted a trolley filled with cylinders of medical gas by the far wall, and he rushed over to it as the argument outside grew more heated. He pulled one of the heavy cylinders from the trolley, but the scrape of metal against metal sounded like an entire football team dragging their fingernails across a blackboard. The voices outside fell silent, and Hallam rushed back to the side of the door, grateful that his lack of shoes allowed him to move without making a sound.

The door to the storeroom then burst open, and the enforcer charged inside, weapon raised. Using the gas cylinder as a battering ram, Hallam swung the improvised weapon with all the force his tired body could muster, driving the heavy metal object into the man’s groin. The enforcer let out a muffled cry and crumpled to his knees, dropping the SMG and clutching his hands between his legs. Hallam hoisted the cylinder above his head, fueled purely by adrenaline, then hammered it across the back of the enforcer’s head. The blow cracked the man’s helmet and propelled him face first into the white tile floor, knocking him out cold.

Suddenly overcome with exhaustion, Hallam flopped to the floor as a doctor burst into the room and saw him lying next to the prone body of the enforcer. It was Dr. Zubrod, the man who had met them initially, and who had recognized and willingly assisted Dr. Rand in treating Hallam.

“Mr. Knight, come with me quickly!” said Dr. Zubrod while waving one of the nurses over.

Hallam removed the enforcer’s nightstick and boots before a team of nurses rushed inside and dragged the unconscious man from the storeroom.

“Treat his injuries, but keep him sedated,” Dr. Zubrod said to one of the nurses, talking in hushed tones.

Hallam finished pulling on the stolen boots then picked up the enforcer’s SMG. Dr. Zubrod looked at the weapon uneasily.

“If you want my continued help, Mr. Knight, I cannot have you running around the ship armed,” the doctor said.

“I don’t think these enforcers are playing by those rules, Doc,” said Hallam.

“They have no reason to shoot if we are unarmed,” the doctor hit back. “I will not allow the CSF to turn this ship into a war zone, and I will not allow you to do it either.”

Hallam growled and shook his head, but reluctantly agreed before removing the magazine from the weapon and popping out the round in the chamber. He threw both onto the top shelf of the storage rack to his side then tossed the weapon in the trash.

“I’m still taking this, though,” said Hallam, holding up the nightstick.

“A fair compromise,” said the doctor while ushering Hallam out of the room. “However, please refrain from violence if at all possible.”

More heavy bootsteps thudded along the corridor as Hallam re-entered the patient care room, spotting the now sedated enforcer in the bed he’d occupied only moments earlier. Hallam thrust out a hand to stop Dr. Zubrod from rushing ahead. Then, holding the nightstick ready, he waited at the side of the door, hoping the enforcers would simply rush past on their way to another destination. Unfortunately, instead of hurrying along the corridor, the two figures burst into the room. Hallam had already swung the nightstick by the time he realized the first intruder was Dakota, and just managed to adjust his strike, hammering the weapon into the frame of the door instead.

Dakota jolted away from him and drew back her fist, until their eyes met and she let her hands fall to her side.

“Damn it, Hal, I almost clobbered you!” yelled Dakota as Dr. Rand also entered the room and closed the door behind her.

“Nice to see you too, Dak,” said Hallam, managing a weak smile. “I thought you’d left without me,” he added, resting against the wall as fatigue suddenly overwhelmed him again.

“I was preparing some additional medications when the enforcers stormed the ship,” said Dr. Rand. She hastily examined Hallam before diving into a bag that was slung across her shoulder.

“How did they find us?” asked Hallam, directing the question to Dakota.

“We’re not sure,” she said, shrugging. “We think that our fighter was recognized in the docking garage, perhaps by a CSF enforcer that accompanied one of the rescue ships here from Vediovis.”

“The why is not important now,” said Dr. Rand, pulling a medical injector out of the bag. “What matters is that we get off this ship again, safely.” She then held the injector up to Hallam. “This is a stimulant,” she continued, pressing the device to Hallam’s neck. It hissed, and Hallam felt a sharp pain, which quickly subsided. “It will keep you on your feet until we can escape.”

Hallam rubbed the side of his neck where the scientist had injected him. “Thanks, though this is going to give me one hell of a hangover later,” he grumbled.

Dr. Zubrod stepped forward. “The enforcer squads are working their way through this level,” he said while nervously peering up and down the corridor outside, through the window in the door. “We can take the emergency stairwells down to the docking garage. I have already ensured that your ship is cleared and ready for departure.”

Dr. Zubrod headed out first, with Dakota picking up the rear. The thump of boots and garbled chatter of radios filtered along corridors from multiple directions, but the doctor managed to guide them to the emergency stairwell unseen. The combined clamor of their feet running down the stairs echoed around the stairwell until they reached level seven.

“Follow me; I know the fastest route to the docking garage,” the doctor said, pushing the door open and rushing outside.

“No, wait!” Hallam called out to him, realizing that Dr. Zubrod hadn’t checked that the coast was clear first, but he’d already gone.

11

Angry shouts of “You there, stop where you are!” came through the door, and Hallam cursed before nodding to Dakota. She slid up next to him on the opposite side of the door, and together they waited for the enforcers to draw closer. Dr. Zubrod had already frozen like a rabbit in headlights with his hands thrust into the air. Hallam sucked in a deep breath and tightened his hold on the nightstick as the dark helmet of a CSF enforcer appeared outside the window. He stepped back and launched a kick at the door, slamming it into the face of the enforcer with a sickening crunch. Dakota rushed through and kicked the SMG from the grasp of the second enforcer, but she then caught an elbow to the face. It was an instinctive panic reaction from the man, but it was enough to stun Dakota and allow the enforcer to land another hard shot, then draw his own nightstick.

Hallam darted forward and engaged the enforcer, landing a glancing blow to the man’s shoulder, though the CSF light armor spared the man from injury. Hallam attacked again, but the enforcer blocked before wrapping his own night stick around Hallam’s shoulder and pulling him down. Hallam recognized the classic takedown technique, which he’d also been taught at the CSF academy, and blocked the follow-up knee strike, sweeping the man’s leg and sending him down. Both were on their feet again within a second, but Hallam now had the measure of the enforcer. Ducking under the next attack, Hallam struck his opponent’s knee before cracking his baton across the back of the enforcer’s neck as the man’s leg gave way beneath him. The entire fight lasted only a matter of seconds, but left Hallam gasping for breath, his muscles tingling from the combined effect of adrenaline and the stim Dr. Rand had given him.

Dakota got to her feet, rubbing the side of her head, and Dr. Rand was quick to check her over. “You’ll live, Miss Wulfrun,” she said before turning to Dr. Zubrod. “Doctor, the quickest way to the docking garage, please.” However, the doctor still appeared to be in shock. “Dr. Zubrod…” Dr. Rand said, this time grabbing the man by the shoulders. His eyes shifted to meet hers. “The docking garage, doctor. Which way is it?”

The light came back into Dr. Zubrod’s glazed-over eyes, though he still looked shaken. “Yes, this way!” he said, leading them along the corridor

This time, Hallam was careful to remain close by the doctor’s side, so that he could pull him back if need be. Shouts and barked orders continued to echo along the hospital ship’s long, stark corridors, but they managed to reach the docking garage without another confrontation. However, two enforcers were standing guard at the entrance, and Hallam guessed there were probably more inside.

“Doc, is there another way into the garage?” said Hallam, addressing the question to Dr. Zubrod.

“I’m afraid I have no idea,” Dr. Zubrod answered as the crackle of the enforcers, radios echoed along the corridor.

“Then we’ll need a distraction,” said Dakota. She quickly peeked around the corner and turned to Dr. Zubrod. The doctor peered back into her eyes nervously, as if Dakota was about to ask him to do something dangerous. Which, as it turned out, she was. “We need you to run up to those enforcers, tell them you’ve seen the renegades, and lead them away.”

“What?” Dr. Zubrod hit back. “I can’t do that! What happens when they find out I’m lying?”

“We’ll be well on our way off this ship by then,” answered Dakota. Hallam was impressed with how certain Dakota had managed to sound, considering he knew that the likelihood of their escape being so simple was slim to none.

Dr. Rand then stepped forward and cut in. “You’ve already done more than enough for us, Dr. Zubrod, so this is where we part ways,” she began. Hallam glanced at Dakota and he could see she was desperate to speak out, yet remarkably, she managed to hold her tongue. The scientist’s mind was made up, and Dakota knew just as well as Hallam did that it was pointless to argue with her.

Dr. Zubrod nodded, clearly relieved to be spared any further part of the escape. “The equipment you requested has already been loaded onto your ship,” the doctor said. “It is all either broken or irreparable, so I’m not sure what use it will be to you, but I have given you as much as I could find.”

Dr. Rand nodded and shook the man’s hand. “Thank you, Dr. Zubrod. Now get back to your patients and continue your excellent work.”

The doctor nodded again then sucked in several deep breaths. He immediately appeared calmer and more relaxed.

“I sincerely hope you succeed in your endeavors, Dr. Rand,” said Dr. Zubrod. “Please know that there are a great many who believe in you, and in your renegade companions.”

“I hope that is true,” said Dr. Rand, smiling graciously. “Goodbye, doctor.”

Dr. Zubrod then nodded at Hallam and Dakota, then straightened his coat and tie and calmly walked out into the corridor toward the enforcers. The enforcers eyed the doctor suspiciously, but remained at their posts as Dr. Zubrod quickly swung a left down a connecting corridor and was gone.

“What equipment did you have loaded onto the ship, Doc?” asked Hallam, turning back to the scientist. He knew it wasn’t the most important question right at that moment, but curiosity had gotten the better of him.

“That’s hardly significant, Hal,” snapped Dakota, who clearly lacked Hallam’s inquisitiveness. “What we need to know is how are we going to get past those guards?”

“There will be another way into the docking garage, Miss Wulfrun, though a crawlspace or some other entrance,” Dr. Rand replied, taking a stern tone in response to Dakota’s snappishness. “Dr. Zubrod has done more than enough. We cannot put him at further risk.” Dakota stayed quiet again, though from the look on her face, she still disagreed with Dr. Rand’s decision. The scientist then turned to Hallam. “As for the equipment, it is a collection of power-assisted limb rehabilitation equipment and robotics.”

Hallam frowned. “I can walk just fine, Doc,” he said before a nervous flutter gripped his gut. “Unless you didn’t manage to heal me? I just assumed since I woke up in the patient care room that everything went okay.”

“You will be fine, Mr. Knight,” replied Dr. Rand, and Hallam felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders. “Though you are now just as vulnerable to radiation exposure as the rest of us.”

“That’s okay. I’m done playing around with alien components,” said Hallam, glancing along the corridor again. The two enforcers guarding the door to the docking garage were both still in post, holding their rifles ready. “But we still need a way past those two heavies over there,” he added.

No sooner had Hallam spoken the words than the sound of footsteps echoed off the stark white walls of the corridors. However, it was not the heavy thud of enforcer boots, but the higher-pitched clack of lighter, more formal footwear.

“What the hell,” said Hallam, chancing another peek around the corner. He saw Dr. Zubrod racing out of the corridor he’d vanished down earlier, screaming and yelling at the guards.

“This way, this way!” Dr. Zubrod yelled, waving the enforcers on. “The renegades, I’ve seen them!”

Both enforcers ran toward the doctor, shouting into their radios urgently. Then, as quickly as the clamor had begun, it was over, and all Hallam could hear was the sound of bootsteps fading into the distance.

“Well, that was unexpected,” said Hallam, smiling back at Dr. Rand and Dakota. “It seems the good doctor has a taste for danger and adventure after all.”

“I suggest we hurry; they could come back at any moment,” said Dakota, moving out into the corridor and taking cautious steps toward the corridor that the enforcers had run down. She peeked around the corner then waved them on. “It’s clear; come on!” she called back.

Hallam and Dr. Rand followed, and soon they were at the door to Docking Garage Seven. Hallam glanced inside and saw a single enforcer patrolling the perimeter, looking bored.

“Just one more inside,” said Hallam, handing his nightstick to Dakota. “I’ll draw him out into the open, and you take him down.”

Dakota nodded and Hallam crept inside, closely followed by Dakota, who stayed low and worked her way around behind the lone guard. Hallam watched her carefully and waited until she was in position, then stood tall and strolled up to the enforcer with a casual swagger.

“Hello, could you tell me the way to the emergency care department?” said Hallam, speaking politely and with a smile on his face.

“The what? Eh? No!” said the enforcer, jerking back from Hallam with a bemused look on his face while also brandishing his rifle threateningly. “Wait a minute, aren’t you that renegade!” the enforcer then added, though by this point, his fate was already sealed. Dakota sprang up behind the man and wrapped the nightstick around his neck before leaning back with her knee pressed into his lower back. The enforcer struggled, but Dakota’s hold was too strong, and soon the man had dropped to the deck, unconscious.

“Do you know the way to the emergency care department?” said Dakota, looking at Hallam, hands on hips, though she had a smile on her face too.

“Best I could come up with on the spot,” said Hallam with a little shrug.

Dr. Rand then entered and closed the doors behind her. “If we’re quite finished, might I suggest we get out of here as quickly as possible?”

“You’ll get no argument from me, Doc,” said Hallam, stepping over the guard and running to their fighter.

The ship was ready and waiting for them on a launch pad, just as Dr. Zubrod had said. However, as he ran up the rear ramp and into the cargo hold, he collided with a stack of metal crates. Rubbing his throbbing knee, Hallam then reached inside one of the crates and pulled out what looked like the frame of a robotic arm.

“What the hell is this stuff for anyway?” said Hallam as Dr. Rand and Dakota climbed inside the fighter.

“You will find out, all in good time, Mr. Knight,” replied the scientist, who was being her usual evasive self.

Dakota dropped down into the pilot’s seat and powered up their engines. Hallam hit the button to close the rear ramp and joined Dakota in the second seat, while Dr. Rand strapped in behind them.

“You know, this whole mission has gone surprisingly smoothly,” said Dakota as clearance to launch came through immediately from the docking controller.

Hallam snorted a laugh. “Hardly. I’d call it sheer dumb luck, though don’t get me wrong, I’ll take it.”

“Luck, huh?” said Dakota as the ship moved toward the inner airlock, transported on an automatic conveyor. “I wonder what keeps bringing us good luck?” she added. She then unzipped her jacket pocket and placed Bob the bear on the console between them. Hallam laughed and shook his head. “Go on…” said Dakota, looking at Hallam expectantly. “You know you want to…”

Hallam smiled and obliged, leaning forward and patting the ragged little bear on the head. “Thanks, Bob.”

12

Alexis Black strolled up beside Cad as the rear ramp of her fighter thudded shut behind her. She was wearing a lightweight two-piece flight suit, the same as Cad, though she looked far more comfortable in it than Cad was. Without his power armor, Cad felt exposed and vulnerable. However, on this occasion, his powerful protective shell was superfluous because for once, there was no one hunting them.

Cad and Alexis had landed their fighters outside a high-tech Consortium research and testing facility in the mountains beyond Fortuna’s third largest city. Only a day ago, Cad would have been blown to smithereens simply for approaching the planet, or chased by a dozen CSF and Fortunan enforcers should he have managed to get past the planetary defenses. Now the only CSF fighters that had pursued him and Alexis to the facility were the two vessels that had been assigned to escort them in. How quickly fortunes can change… Cad thought as a CSF officer in regular working dress walked up to them from the research and testing facility.

“Welcome, Colonel Rikkard,” said the man, throwing up a salute. Cad frowned at the man as Alexis snickered, and tossed up a lazy salute of his own. “I am Captain Blanchard. Commandant Stone asked me to escort you inside,” the officer said in the stilted, formal manner that most CSF officers spoke. Captain Blanchard then turned sharply on his heels and began to parade back towards the sleek, glass fronted building that had been cleverly engineered into the mountainside.

“At ease, Colonel,” said Alexis, teasing Cad as they both followed the captain, keeping their distance so that they could talk without being overheard.

“If it means that these blowhards stop shooting at us, then I’ll play along with their game of soldiers, for now,” grumbled Cad.

“Captain Blowhard has a nice ring to it, actually,” said Alexis, looking at the back of the officer’s head.

Cad smiled. The name did seem to suit the man, as well as most of the other enforcers he’d met.

“Do you have the bot-hacking device?” asked Cad, stepping up to the grand entrance of the building. He noted that it bore no external signboards or logos that could have identified it as a Consortium facility.

“I’ve already activated it,” replied Alexis, who was also admiring the grand structure. “I did take a look inside the device, but honestly, I have no idea how the damn thing works. I managed to fit a larger power cell and beef up the antenna gain, which means I’ve got a lock on whatever is inside that building right after we landed.”

Cad grunted then stopped, waiting for Captain Blanchard to open the door with his security pass. The CSF officer then smiled amiably and invited Cad to enter first. Considering the cavernous size of the building and the room they were about to enter, there were only a dozen or so people inside.

“Can you tell if it’s working?” Cad asked once they were again out of the captain’s earshot.

“It’s certainly processing something,” said Alexis as they both turned the corner into a large hall. “I have no idea what, though,” she added, almost walking into the back of Cad. She glowered at him, but then saw the reason for his sudden stop. Lined up in front of them was a row of six warbots.

Cad looked at the oblong cranial units of the six machines, all of which had turned their sinister vee-shaped blue eyes on him. The machines were a full head taller than Cad and had short legs, long torsos, and long arms that almost reached to the ground. “I think we’ve discovered what our little gadget is working on,” he said, feeling his mouth go slightly dry.

“They don’t look like regular warbots, or even the machine that Stone had on the space station,” said Alexis, immediately switching into her more serious-minded, vigilant persona.

Despite having been invited to the facility in order to take command of these machines, Cad felt his senses heighten too. It was like he was a wild animal that had suddenly detected the presence of a predator stalking him from the darkness.

“They’re not normal warbots,” said Cad, instinctively reaching for his Black Prince sword. However, his hand wrapped around nothing but air since they’d been under strict instructions to come unarmed. He cursed, remembering that the weapon was still stored in the hold of his ship. “I’ve seen machines like this before. They’re alien. Stone hasn’t even bothered trying to disguise it this time.”

Dexter Stone marched out of a corridor to the side of the warbots, and Alexis quickly peered down inside the breast pocket of her shirt. Cad watched her and spotted the outline of the bot-hacking device through the fabric. She then met his eyes and raised her eyebrows almost imperceptibly.

“It’s working,” said Alexis, keeping her voice low now that Dexter Stone was approaching. “Progress is slow, but it’s definitely working.”

Cad nodded then turned his attention to Dexter Stone, who could not have looked more unhappy to see him.

“Colonel Rikkard, Miss Black, I trust your journey was uneventful?” Stone grunted with all the sincerity of a politician making an apology.

“We didn’t get shot at, if that’s what you mean?” said Cad, unable to prevent himself from provoking the loathsome man.

“It was lovely, thank you, Commandant,” said Alexis, who had already relaxed back into a more playful mood. “And Captain Blowhard here has been very welcoming,” she added, gesturing to the officer with a broad smile. The captain clearly wanted to correct her, but Alexis’ effortless charm and perfectly acted faux pas had blindsided him, and he simply nodded and smiled back at her.

“And it’s Colonel Black, to use her proper title,” Cad cut back in, addressing Stone.

Stone’s eyes narrowed. “Is that really necessary? As a colonel, your squadron already…”

“It is necessary,” Cad cut in again.

Stone growled under his breath, not even bothering to hide his irritation before waving Captain Blanchard over. “Very well; as your subordinate, I can assign Miss Black the rank of major,” said Stone, taking the palm computer that the dutiful captain offered him.

“Colonel, Mr. Stone, nothing less,” Cad said, again interrupting the commandant. “She is not my subordinate. She is my partner.”

Stone stopped typing on the device and lifted his eyes to meet Cad’s. Cad simply held the commandant’s gaze with an equally stony, unwavering glare. He didn’t care about the rank and knew Alexis cared about it even less. He just wanted to push Stone’s buttons and embarrass him in front of his officer, as Stone had once embarrassed him.

“Colonel it is, then,” muttered Stone, tapping on the palm computer for a few more seconds then handing it back to Captain Blanchard. “I take it that you were at least satisfied with the removal of your names from the most wanted list and the public statement I made clearing you of involvement with Damien Doyle’s death?” the commandant added petulantly.

“You could have sounded a bit more enthusiastic and convincing, but it will suffice,” said Cad, causing the muscles in the commandant’s cheeks to spasm and his shoulders to tense up. However, as much as Cad was enjoying getting on the commandant’s nerves, he was also already bored of being in his presence. “So what’s this test you need us to run?” Cad continued. The swift change of subject seemed to cause Stone to loosen up. “I thought these machines of yours were already tested and ready to go.”

“They have been tested on the range but not fully field tested, as yet,” Stone answered. He then snapped his fingers at Captain Blanchard. The officer hurried over and handed him another palm computer, which was different from the one he’d worked on earlier. “I need to be absolutely certain these warbots will perform flawlessly before sending them after Dr. Rand. I cannot afford any…” Stone hesitated, searching for the right word before settling on, “…accidents.” Stone then tapped on the screen of the new palm computer before stepping toward Cad and holding it out to him. Cad noticed that the commandant had maintained the maximum possible distance between the two of them, using the long reach of his powerful arms to stay well out of Cad’s striking range.

Cad took the palm computer and read the information on the screen. It detailed a criminal gang that had abandoned Vediovis, due to the worsening condition of the star system, and taken up residence on Liber instead. Led by a well-known criminal boss called Zelina Skars, the gang had apparently taken over a major Consortium diamond mine, killing a dozen of the management staff and holding dozens more hostage. Cad handed the pad to Alexis then turned back to Stone.

“So what’s the test?” asked Cad, still not sure why they were bothering with such an unnecessary diversion. “In case you hadn’t noticed, the bridge worlds are falling to pieces. I would have thought diamonds are the least of your concerns.”

“Zelina Skars will be well guarded,” the commandant answered. He had stepped back beside the row of warbots, with the obedient Captain Blanchard close by. “If the warbots can be made to apprehend her alive and sufficiently unharmed, then we can move ahead with the capture of Dr. Rand.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Cad replied, managing to hide his distrust of Stone enough that the commandant was encouraged to continue.

“In the meantime, you still need to locate Dr. Rand, which I believe you have yet to do?” Stone added with a blatantly accusatory tone.

“That’s because someone made me fly halfway across the galaxy to a fancy mountaintop retreat instead,” Cad hit back.

The commandant’s jaw clamped shut and the officer glared at him. “Well, now you can be on your way again, can’t you?” Stone eventually replied. He then turned and marched toward the corridor he’d arrived from earlier. “I expect you to keep me apprised, Colonel,” he added without bothering to look at Cad. Then he was gone again, leaving Captain Blanchard alone with the six alien warbots.

Alexis pocketed the palm computer then stole another look inside her breast pocket. “The hacking device is in progress, but it’s going to take several hours to break through,” she said, answering Cad’s unspoken question.

“Keep an eye on it,” said Cad, glancing back at the row of killer alien robots. “Because I suspect these machines are programmed to turn on us the moment we demonstrate to Stone that they can capture Rand unharmed.”

Alexis nodded. “That sounds like the sort of asshole stunt that man would pull.”

Captain Blanchard then marched up to them, still smiling like a Cheshire cat. “Shall we get these warbots loaded into your ships, then?” he asked.

Suddenly, Alexis let out a shrill wolf-whistle at the warbots, causing Blanchard to jump two full paces backward. “Hey, robo-squadron, form up on me!” Alexis called out to the machines. The warbots’ vee-shaped eyes all focused on Alexis, then a second later, they set off in unison, marching toward her. The combined thump of their feet caused the floor to shake as if an earthquake had just hit.

“Well, it seems that you already have things under control…” said Captain Blanchard, more than a little apprehensively.

Cad sighed, feeling a sudden urge to punch the officer in the mouth, but instead, he turned his back on the man and headed toward the exit of the glass-fronted building. Alexis tapped the closest warbot on the shoulder with her knuckle, making its armor chime like a bell, then set off in pursuit with the troop of warbots. She reached the door then turned back to the CSF officer and blew him a kiss.

“See you later, Captain Blowhard,” she shouted at the top of her voice, turning the heads of everyone else in the foyer. Then Colonel Alexis Black filed in at the rear of the line of alien war machines and was gone.

13

Cad Rikkard circled around the Dalrosa diamond mine on Liber for a second time, banking steeply so he could peer down at the enormous open pit. His scanners measured it at nearly three and a half kilometers in diameter, with the pit plunging a full thousand meters below the surface, not even accounting for the vast underground operation that also existed. He’d seen a lot of crazy things, but the mammoth hole in the ground, surrounded by an entire city to support the mining operation and community, was one of the most spectacular.

“I bet there isn’t a rock in that entire hole that can match my Tiffany Diamond,” said Alexis over their private comm channel.

Cad laughed, remembering the famous diamond that Alexis had taken from Fraser Melton Strickland’s tower of treasures on Minerva. Then his mood soured, remembering that the treasure he’d acquired during that mission was no longer in his possession. He’d been compelled to relinquish the famous sword of Charlemagne to the Banker, as payment for the upgrades and facilities that had ultimately failed to prevent Dexter Stone from capturing him. The money the commandant had paid him after they’d reconciled their differences had softened the blow a little. However, the loss of the majestic, ancient weapon still left a bitter taste in his mouth. Cad put the irreplaceable sword out of his mind in order to respond to Alexis’ comment.

“Who knows, maybe once we’ve dealt with this gang, you may be able find something even shinier in that pit,” said Cad.

“Challenge accepted,” Alexis replied, clearly excited by the prospect of securing yet another trinket.

Suddenly, Cad’s console flashed up a warning, and seconds later, the computer registered small arms fire impacting on the hull.

“Do they think we’re ducks?” said Alexis over the comm channel. “What do they hope to achieve taking pot-shots at us with rifles?”

Cad grunted. “I don’t know, but I already don’t like this Zelina Skars woman,” he said, banking to again fly over the mining compound. Then a missile lock warning sounded and Cad’s eyes narrowed as his computer warned him of an imminent launch from a surface-to-air battery.

“A SAM launcher? Now that’s not very friendly, is it?” said Alexis, sounding far less jovial than she had done only moments earlier.

Cad enabled his fighters’ advanced ECM system, which successfully jammed the weapon, and the alarm immediately silenced.

“Follow me in and prepare to deploy our metal friends,” said Cad, starting his turn back toward the city. “I assume they’re all nice and obedient now?”

Alexis formed up on Cad’s wing as more small-arms fire continued to bounce harmlessly off their hulls. “They’re all ours,” said Alexis. “Stone’s tech boffins clearly aren’t a patch on Falken. It’s a shame we nuked her.”

Cad grunted an acknowledgement, though he didn’t go as far as agreeing with Alexis, despite having had similar thoughts. However, like the assault on Strickland’s tower of treasures, the destruction of Falken’s lair, along with the genius hacker herself, seemed like a lifetime ago now. Chastising himself for dwelling on past mistakes, Cad cleared his mind. Second guessing his earlier decisions was pointless, he realized. All that mattered was the here and now.

Cad switched to maneuvering thrusters and began to descend vertically toward the main road that led to the mining compound. The city had its own airport, but Cad had targeted the main road running directly alongside the edge of the pit as his landing spot. Not only would this put them closer to the walled mining compound, but Cad guessed that Zelina Skars would have already taken control of the airport. Landing in the city would mean catching the gang unawares, and in the wrong positions.

The landing struts made contact with the tarmac in the right-hand lane of the road, and Cad lowered the rear ramp as Alexis fired her thrusters and dropped down beside him. Grabbing his Black Prince sword and a pistol from the storage rack, Cad squeezed past the hulking frames of three alien warbots that were stowed in his hold and stepped outside. The air smelled fresh, but it was also bitterly cold, though because of his advanced power armor, it was only his face that felt the chill. Taking stock of his location, Cad stepped off the road and walked up to the edge of the pit, which was less than ten meters away and marked only by a shallow concrete wall. Cad doubted the pathetic barricade would have prevented a cyclist from tumbling the one thousand meters to the bottom of the pit, had they collided with it on a drunken ride home.

Alexis strolled up alongside Cad and also peered into the pit. “I wonder how long it would take for someone to hit the bottom?” she mused idly.

“Perhaps we’ll get a chance to find out,” replied Cad, turning his attention to the mining operation across the other side of the chasm. Walled off from the city surrounding it, the mining compound was a self-contained community in its own right, with shops and fuel stations and even a small park all enclosed within its two-meter-tall, razor-wire-topped concrete borders. Then Cad saw a squad of four regular CSF enforcers hurrying toward them along the road, and he tapped Alexis on the shoulder to get her attention. She was lost in her own thoughts, no doubt still contemplating various different methods of hurling gang members into the dark abyss.

“Go and collect the warbots and let’s get this over with,” Cad said, already regretting having set foot in the miserable city. Another gust of icy wind lashed his face and crept inside the collar of his armor, sending a shiver down his spine. “I already hate this damn place.”

Alexis smiled and stroked Cad’s scarred face before heading back to their fighters to activate their small army of warbots. Cad set out to meet the squad of four enforcers, who all slowed to a regular marching pace, straightening their uniforms as Cad drew closer.

“Colonel Rikkard, thanks for coming at such short notice, sir,” said the lead enforcer, throwing up a stiff salute, which Cad returned half-heartedly. “I’m Sergeant Grimes,” the enforcer then added, practically standing to attention.

“Do you know where Zelina Skars is, Sergeant? That’s all I need to know,” said Cad, noticing that the other three enforcers were staring at him nervously, as if his hair was on fire.

“I’m afraid not, sir,” Sergeant Grimes replied, sounding ashamed to admit it. “They’ve set up sensor jammers and sentry turrets, and they’ve got hand-held SAMs too. I already lost a dropship and an entire squad. We’re stretched thin, with almost all our forces diverted to help with the planetary rescue missions.” Grimes looked back at the city, sweeping his arms toward it despairingly. “And with all the looting and unrest, I just don’t have the enforcers to tackle this gang.”

Cad sighed and drummed his fingers on the pommel of his Black Prince sword. He’d instantly bored of hearing the man’s excuses, and so far, the sergeant had told him absolutely nothing of use.

“Do you have anything helpful to report, Sergeant, because I’m not interested in your problems?” Cad snapped as the rising thrum of reactors hummed into life behind him. Grimes and the three other enforcers briefly gawped at the Blackfire Squadron ships before Cad’s loud and obviously-faked cough snapped the sergeant back to attention.

“There’s a few of them holed up in a bar on Adamantem Road, sir,” the sergeant answered, hooking a thumb in the direction of a nearby side-street. “It’s called Randall’s. There were seven or eight of them in there at the last count.”

Cad nodded, thankful that the hapless enforcer had at least said one thing of value during his frantic ramblings. “Stay here. I’ll call you in when it’s over,” said Cad. The warbots began to march down the rear ramps of his and Alexis’ fighters. The sergeant’s eyes widened and the three other enforcers huddled closer, chattering amongst themselves as the six machines formed up into two rows of three and began thudding their way.

“Dear lord, what on Earth…” the sergeant said, shuffling away from the advancing troop of warbots and colliding with his squad mates behind him.

“They’re not from Earth,” said Cad as the machines halted. Alexis threaded herself through the middle of them before resting on the end warbot, like she was leaning against a lamppost. “They’re not from any planet you’ve ever heard of, or ever will hear of,” Cad added matter-of-factly.

The sergeant forced down a dry swallow, unable to take his eyes off the machines. “What are you going to do with them?” he asked tentatively.

Cad adjusted his gaze toward Adamantem Road and gripped the pommel of his sword. “I’m going to use them to kill all of the gang members in this city,” he said, his tone colder than the freezing air around them. Then, under his breath, so that Sergeant Grimes couldn’t hear, he added. “And if they work as intended, I’m going to use them to kill Dexter Stone.”

14

Cad and Alexis halted the troop of warbots just out of sight of Randall’s bar. Underneath the flickering neon sign bearing the bar’s name were two men with rifles slung over their shoulders, chatting and smoking. Further along Adamantem Road, Cad could see buildings on fire and people running in and out of stores, some carrying stacks of boxes or shopping bags. However, none of this seemed to concern the two gang thugs who were lazily guarding the door to the bar.

“We should leave the machines here,” said Cad, casting a wary glance back at the alien warbots. Their vee-shaped eyes were still regarding him closely. “If we march up to that bar with them all in tow, those two on the door will just start shooting, and who knows how these things will respond. We need to know if our target is inside first before these alien machines run riot, killing everyone.”

Alexis nodded, but then tapped the nearest machine on the shoulder. “How about we just bring this one, as backup?” she suggested. “If things go south, our chrome friend can deal with it or just act as a shield.”

Cad grunted. “Agreed, I’d rather these contraptions get shot at than us.”

Alexis ordered the other five warbots to hold position, then they set off toward the bar, the solitary alien warbot marching with robotic precision behind them. The two gang thugs were so engrossed in their conversation that Cad had made it within ten meters before the guards had even realized they were heading toward them.

“Hey, that’s close enough, asshole!” the nearest thug shouted, tossing his half-smoked cigarette to the ground and aiming his rifle at Cad. The thug’s companion did the same, though he looked to be far more on edge. This was likely as a result of the seven-foot warbot standing behind him, Cad guessed. Both men had their fingers on their triggers.

“Relax, I’m not with the CSF or Liberan Enforcers,” said Cad, holding his hands up and stopping a few meters in front of the guards. “I’m just looking for some information.”

“Go to a library, then, asshole,” the closest thug hit back before grinning at his companion, who obliged with a forced and slightly nervous laugh.

Cad sighed and rested his hand on the pommel of his Black Prince sword. “We’re looking for Zelina Skars. Is she in there?” he said, trying not to lose his patience with the gang members.

“Didn’t you hear me the first time?” the thug barked back. “Get lost, and take your robot with you before we turn it to scrap and fill you two idiots with holes.”

Cad clenched his jaw shut, using every last ounce of willpower to not tear out the man’s throat then and there. However, he didn’t want to catch a stray bullet from the thug’s nervous companion for his trouble, which meant that both gang members had to be taken out at the same time. He glanced at Alexis, who had already removed the extendable Bo staff from its magnetic stow on her waist. A single look and subtle raising of his eyebrow was all Cad needed to convey his intentions.

Turning back to the still smirking thug, Cad gripped his sword, pushing back on the sheath with his left hand in order to accelerate his draw before cutting diagonally upwards in one swift action. His augmented strength combined with the sword’s unique alien alloy caused the blade to slice through the man’s flesh as easily as if Cad had cut nothing more than air. At the same time, Alexis had darted toward the second guard, grabbing the man’s rifle and deflecting its aim as the twitchy thug panic-fired into the icy Liberan sky. Pulling the weapon from his grasp, Alexis then stabbed the end of the still retracted Bo staff into the thug’s throat. Since the weapon hadn’t been activated, the man was spared the devastating effects of the staff’s powerful electric shock. However, the guard had little time to appreciate this before Alexis smashed his head through the window of Randall’s bar.

The door to the bar flung open and two more thugs ran outside, only to see the vee-shaped eye of the warbot glaring down at them. Both cursed and opened fire on the machine at point-blank range. However, before Cad or Alexis could react, the warbot had surged forward and caught both by the throats. Lifting the two men into the air, it slowly turned its oblong head to inspect the man in its left claw before doing the same to the thug held in its right claw. It regarded the two thugs with an almost childlike curiosity, as if it had never seen a human face so close up before. It then glanced down at Alexis, awaiting instructions.

“Good boy,” Alexis said to the warbot while staring up at the bodies of the two thrashing gang members with a sadistic smile curling her lips. “Now just hang around out here until I call you.”

The warbot’s eye remained in a sharp vee, but it held its position as Alexis had ordered, still suspending the two thugs by their necks like a robot gallows. Stowing her Bo staff, Alexis drew her Five-Seven-Sevens, while Cad entered through the now open door of the bar, blood-stained sword still in hand. Four other thugs sat at tables on the ground floor, all of whom froze as Cad and Alexis strolled in. Clearly, none had expected whoever caused the commotion outside to have still been alive, and they were all caught unawares, weapons still holstered on their hips. Alexis covered them with her twin pistols, while Cad surveyed the room, spotting a mezzanine level above the bar. There were lights on in the mezzanine, but from his position, he couldn’t see anyone up there. Immediately, Cad’s mind began working, formulating strategies and anticipating possible threats and avenues of attack. He then returned his attention to the four gang members and addressed the room.

“I’m looking for Zelina Skars,” Cad shouted, loud enough that if there was anyone on the upper level, they would have heard him too. “Just tell me where she is, and you don’t have to die.”

The thud of boots resonated through the bar’s wooden floors. Cad peered up to see another gang member rush up the balcony overlooking the bar, carrying a light machine gun. The man rested it over the wooden bannister and tilted the barrel down at Cad. At the same time, the four other gang members in the bar reached for their weapons.

An attack from the mezzanine was one of many scenarios Cad had already calculated in his head in the short time he’d been inside the bar. And he knew just how to deal with the threat. Dropping to a crouch, he propelled himself toward the upper level, using the power of his augmented legs to perform the superhuman jump. The machine gun fired, but the bullets merely tore up the wooden floorboards where Cad had been standing moments earlier. Crashing through the railings, Cad landed on the mezzanine and swung his sword, slicing the machine gun in half. The crack of Alexis’ Five-Seven-Seven pistols then rang out below. She’d fired only four shots, two from each pistol, but that was all she had needed. Each bullet had split the skull of a gang member precisely between his eyes.

“Who the hell are you!” the sole remaining thug on the mezzanine yelled.

The man was slightly better dressed and more well-spoken than the others, and Cad assumed he was the leader of the group. However, he wasn’t Zelina Skars, and Cad was in no mood for talking to unimportant lieutenants. Ignoring the gang member’s barked question, Cad grabbed a fistful of the man’s shirt then hurled him over the edge of the mezzanine. The thug dropped like a rock, landing on a circular table below, which collapsed under his weight. Alexis sauntered over to the gang member, who was writhing on the floor in agony, and pressed her boot down on his chest to pin him. Cad paced down the wooden stairwell, as calmly and as methodically as the warbot outside had moved. He then stood over the man as Alexis removed her foot and stepped back, holstering her Five-Seven-Sevens.

“Zelina Skars,” Cad said, pressing the tip of his Black Prince sword under the man’s chin. “Where is she?”

“She’s in the cutting and polishing facility,” the man blurted, struggling through the pain to get his words out. “It’s inside the main complex, near the west gate.”

Cad slid the blade aside then reached down and lifted the man to his feet with one hand. “Take me to it,” he growled, holding the man mere inches from his own scarred face. He could smell the tobacco and alcohol on the thug’s breath, and the sweat on his skin. The man repulsed him. He was just another of the galaxy’s petty criminals and lowlifes. The sort of cockroach that somehow always seemed to survive, even as planets crumbled and millions died. Cad marched the man outside to where the warbot was waiting, still holding the two guards out to its side. However, neither of the thugs was now moving, and Cad could see that their faces had turned purple.

“Carry this one instead,” said Cad, throwing the gang member into the road in front of the warbot. “Though keep this one alive, if you can.”

The machine cocked its head and peered down at Cad, its eye shifting shape several times before it finally tossed the two dead guards aside. It then turned its attention to the sole surviving gang member at its feet. The man, who was trembling and had wet himself with fear, begged for mercy, but the warbot’s eye did not waver. Grabbing the thug by the top of his arms, the machine lifted him and held him out like a confused father holding a newborn.

Cad and Alexis rejoined the other five warbots, with the sixth machine in tow behind them, still clutching the gang member by his arms. The full troop then turned onto the main road leading up to the walled mining complex. The thug guided them along the wall until they reached the west gate, which was so close to the edge of the mining pit that Cad could have spat into the gaping hole from where he stood. Over the top of the two-meter-high wall, Cad could see dozens of buildings of varying shapes and sizes inside. The cutting and polishing facility could have been any one of them.

“Which building it is?” asked Cad as the warbot lifted the trapped gang member higher so that the thug could more easily see over the wall.

“That one!” the thug cried, blood trickling down his arms from where the warbot’s claw-like hands had pierced his skin. “The one with the glass frontage and dark blue wall.”

Cad again peered at the various buildings, his brow furrowed into a scowl before he finally spotted the structure the thug had indicated. Raising his gaze, he saw an automated sentry turret on the roof, as well as another gang member close to it with a SAM launch slung over his shoulder.

“I’ll need to grab some additional gear from my ship, but with our metal friends, I don’t see a problem,” said Alexis, moving to the edge of the pit and peering down into it.

Cad grunted then turned to the warbot. “You can let him go now.”

The machine’s vee-shaped eye narrowed, but then it obeyed the command, dropping the battered and bruised thug onto the gravel beside the road.

“Thank you,” the man said, sitting on the floor and massaging his blood-stained arms. Tears were welling in his eyes. “Thank you for not killing me…”

Alexis Black then grabbed the thug by the back of the neck, gripping the rear waistband of his pants with her other hand. Without a word, she then turned toward the pit, dragging the thug across the gravel to the edge of the precipice. The man protested and begged for her to stop, but Alexis simply launched the thug into the air, using her augmented might to ensure the man cleared the steeply sloping edge of the pit. Cad scowled again and stepped to Alexis’ side, watching the man fall, arms and legs flailing haplessly. Then the body finally hammered into the pit floor, over a kilometer below them.

“How long did it take?” asked Cad, finding that he was morbidly curious to learn the outcome of Alexis’ experiment.

“About twenty-one seconds,” said Alexis, turning back to Cad, looking satisfied, as if she’d just thrown a personal best in a track and field event.

Cad grunted. “Longer than I thought…” He then turned back to the west gate of the compound and stared out at his next target. The thugs inside would not be so easy to kill as the man at the bottom of the pit, but one way or another, they’d all die by his hand.

15

Cad and Alexis stood in front of the west gate of the mining complex, their troop of six alien warbots formed up to the rear. Alexis had equipped a smart sniper rifle – one of the new weapons she’d acquired from the Banker’s vault – which was stowed on the magnetic mount on her back. However, Cad had chosen not to swap his pistol for a more substantial weapon. His intention was to let the alien warbots do the heavy lifting on this occasion. Partly, this was because he was curious to see how they would perform. More importantly, on the assumption that Dexter Stone would at some point try to turn the alien machines against him, he also wanted to know how obediently they would follow his orders. If Falken’s device had truly succeeded in keeping the warbots on a short leash, the machines would turn from becoming Stone’s secret weapon to Cad’s own trump card.

“How many should we send in?” asked Alexis, pulling the sniper rifle from its stow on her back.

Cad thought for a moment. He didn’t want the hassle of dealing with Zelina Skars’ entire entourage, but he also didn’t want the warbots to have all the fun either.

“Send in five to deal with the sentry turret on the roof, and any gang members in the courtyard outside,” said Cad, stroking the base of his chin with his thumb. “Then we can hold back warbot number six with us as we push inside to find Zelina Skars. Hopefully, it won’t crush her throat, like it did those other two.”

Alexis nodded then loaded the sniper rifle and stepped up to the side of the gate. “Ready when you are.”

Cad drew the reforged Black Prince sword from its sheath then reached behind his back and detached a personal shield. Holding it out in front of him, he pressed a button on the handle to deploy it to full size before moving to the opposite side of the gate to Alexis.

“Ready,” said Cad, glancing over to the warbots, whose glowing eyes were all focused on Alexis. “Let’s see what these things are really made of.”

Alexis turned to the row of warbots and let out a shrill whistle, causing the machines’ eyes to bend into a sharper vee. “On my go, smash down this gate and kill anyone who resists,” said Alexis, pointing to the warbot that had gone with them to Randall’s bar. “Number six, you stay with us,” she added before tapping her watch and projecting a holo image of Zelina Skars into the cold Liberan air. “The only one you don’t kill is this woman. We need her alive, understood?” There was a chorus of strange alien warbles from the machines, which otherwise had remained completely still, besides their constantly shifting blue eyes. Alexis glanced across to Cad and shrugged. “I guess that means yes?”

Cad shrugged back. “We’ll find out soon enough,” he said, no more certain that the troop of alien machines had understood the orders than Alexis was.

Alexis held the sniper rifle ready then glanced back at the warbots and shouted, “Go!”

Five of the warbots immediately charged at the gate and began to hammer and tear at the metal with their powerful claw-like hands. Within seconds, the gate was down, and cannon fire from the sentry turret on the roof of the cutting and polishing building rained down on the machines. The lead warbot took the brunt of it, while the four other machines advanced inside, moving through side streets and climbing onto rooftops with an organic fluidity that no human-built machine could ever match. Suddenly, there was a streak of smoke from the rooftop and a rocket raced toward the smashed gates. Cad pulled back into cover as the missile struck the warbot that had been pinned down by the initial torrent of cannon fire. The detonation shrouded them in a cloud of dust and smoke, and for a moment, the cannon fire stopped.

Alexis dropped to a crouch and aimed her sniper rifle toward the rooftop. Cad peered through the smoke as the boom of the rifle resonated around the compound and a gang thug on the roof fell. Two more gang thugs appeared on the roof and unslung rocket launchers from over their shoulders. Alexis fired two more shots in rapid succession, taking them both out before they got a chance to aim their weapons.

Cad advanced through the gate using the battered remains of the warbot as a shield. Any other machine would have already been in pieces, but despite the pounding the alien warbot had taken, it was somehow still functional. The sentry turret erupted again, this time tracking the four other warbots that had spread out inside the complex. Cad could now hear the shouts of other gang members and the frantic scrunch of boots on the gravel surface as the thugs rushed out to meet the intruders.

Behind them, warbot six, the unit that Alexis had ordered to stay with them, surged ahead with unbelievable speed and moved into cover as the turret again turned its attention to Cad and Alexis. Cad rolled out from behind the damaged machine that had been shielding him and took cover behind a nearby building, while Alexis did the same on the opposite side of the road. The cannon continued to hammer shells into the already stricken warbot, and eventually, it fell to its knees, the eye in the center of its oblong cranial unit fading to nothing.

“We need that turret taken out,” Cad called over to Alexis as the thud of the cannon continued.

Alexis nodded and tapped warbot number six on the shoulder. Its vee-shaped eye peered down at her before staring out at the machine that had already been destroyed. Its eye sharpened and its claw-like hands clenched tighter as it peered down at its fallen comrade. Cad watched the warbot with interest, and for a moment, he almost forgot that the alien device was just a machine. He’d never seen a machine appear to show anger and sorrow over the destruction of one of its own kind. In that moment, it was more animal than appliance.

Suddenly, warbot six charged out from behind cover, moving so fast that the turret couldn’t track it. Cad lost sight of the machine for several seconds before he saw it soaring through the air toward the cutting and polishing building. Digging its claws and feet into the wall, it began to climb, again moving with ferocious speed. Seconds later, it had reached the rooftop and was smashing its claws into the turret with a relentless, almost frenzied savagery.

“I’m glad those things are on our side,” said Alexis, stowing the sniper rifle and drawing her Five-Seven-Sevens.

“Let’s hope they’re still on our side when this is over,” commented Cad, moving out of cover and advancing toward the building along the main road.

Rifle fire was crackling all around them now, but Cad and Alexis continued their cautious advance unchallenged. Cad counted twenty gang members spread around the grounds, engaging the other warbots. At least ten bodies already littered the gravel of the mining compound, each one with brutal injuries caused by the machine’s heavy metal claws. Cad stopped and moved into cover again, twenty meters from the main entrance to the cutting and polishing building. Four gang thugs had built a barricade in front of the door and were using it to take potshots at the other warbots. Cad pulled a grenade from his belt and nodded to Alexis. Then he twisted the timer ring and hurled the explosive toward the door. The panicked cries of the gang thugs were quickly consumed by the boom of the grenade as it detonated, blowing them and their makeshift barricade to pieces.

Cad and Alexis advanced as the door flung open and four more thugs ran outside. Cad ducked low and held out his shield, while Alexis dropped in behind him. Bullets hammered into the protective barrier, then Alexis fired around the sides of the shield, taking down the four thugs. More gang members charged out of the door and Cad halted his advance and dropped to a crouch as rifle fire began to splinter and crack his shield. Alexis continued to shoot back at the thugs, but it was like there was a never-ending stream of the gang members pouring outside.

“Where’s that damn warbot when you need it?” growled Cad.

No sooner had he uttered the words than debris began to rain down from above. Cad looked up to see the warbot sliding down the wall of the building, using its claws to control its descent. Then ten meters from the ground, it pushed away and dropped the remaining distance, landing directly onto the gang thugs who had pinned Cad and Alexis down with rifle fire. The ground shook as the massive machine squashed the thugs like bugs before it turned to face the open doorway.

“Right on time…” commented Alexis with a flicker of a smile.

“I’m moderately impressed,” said Cad, playing it cool, though in truth, the alien machine had already more than proven its mettle.

Cad discarded the broken shield and he and Alexis ran up behind the warbot, using it as a barrier against any remaining thugs inside the building. The machine thudded through the door to the cutting and polishing facility and Cad saw three more thugs in the foyer. All of them backed away as the machine advanced, and Cad used their moment of hesitation to his advantage. Springing out from behind the warbot, Cad cut down the closest thug with a single swing of his sword. Bullets thudded into his armor, but he dodged to the side and lunged forward, impaling his attacker through the gut. Alexis had moved ahead, shooting the third thug with her Five-Seven-Sevens. Then she holstered the pistols and drew her Bo staff instead. The weapon extended in her hand and the tips began to crackle with electricity.

“This place is huge,” said Cad, moving up beside Alexis while still keeping a wary eye on warbot six, who was doing the same to him. “Where is Zelina Skars likely to be hiding out?” However, Alexis didn’t appear to have heard him. It was like she was in a trance. “Hey, Alexis, are you still with me?” Cad asked.

“She’ll be in there,” said Alexis, nodding toward a grand door leading off the foyer.

Cad scowled and read the sign over the door before huffing a laugh. “The Jewelry Showroom?” he replied, with more than a little cynicism. “Are you sure that’s not just where you want to be?”

“She’s here to steal, right?” said Alexis, not rising to the bait. “That’s where all the most valuable items will be.” Then she shrugged and added, “It’s definitely where I’d be, in her shoes.”

“That much is certain,” said Cad, stroking the bottom of his chin with his thumb. “Okay, let’s send in number six and find out if it can restrain itself enough not to massacre everyone inside.”

Alexis tapped warbot six on the shoulder, and its glowing eye immediately glanced down at her. “Find Zelina Skars,” she said to the machine. “We need her alive.”

The warbot regarded Alexis for a moment then turned its eye to the door of the showroom and thudded toward it. The hard floor of the foyer cracked underneath its heavy footsteps. Reaching the hefty-looking double doors, the warbot tore them off their hinges with frightening ease. Gunfire immediately erupted from out of the room as the machine tossed the doors aside and stormed inside. Moments later, there were terrified screams and shouts, and suddenly, the gunfire stopped.

Cad raised his eyebrow and walked toward the showroom, sword still in hand. When he was close enough to see inside, he discovered the alien warbot holding Zelina Skars in the air by her throat, her legs kicking wildly underneath her. Three gang members lay dead on the floor, their heads crushed by the warbot’s claws, while four others had thrown down their weapons and had their hands up in surrender.

With the danger gone, Alexis’ more mischievous persona had already begun to assert itself. In the center of the room, the gang members had amassed an enormous collection of diamonds and items of jewelry that all contained a dazzling quantity of the precious stones. Alexis retracted her Bo staff and stowed it before moving over to the table. She picked up a large and brilliant pure-red diamond and stared at it lustfully.

“Don’t you have enough trinkets?” Cad teased, knowing full well that there was more chance of him being swallowed by a black hole than there was of Alexis leaving the jewel behind.

“These diamonds are ours,” a man to Cad’s right barked. He was dressed in a tailored dark blue suit and had a neatly trimmed goatee beard. Cad assumed he was one of Zelina Skars’ more senior lieutenants, or perhaps a personal bodyguard. “Who do you think you are, storming in here like this? You take these jewels and I will find you and kill you both, no matter how long it takes!”

Cad spun the Black Prince sword into a reverse grip then impaled the man through his open, flapping mouth. Pushing the thug back, he then drove the blade through a glass display cabinet and pinned him against the wall. The eyes of the other gang members, including those of Zelina Skars, who was still choking under the pressure of the warbot’s stranglehold, all turned to their comrade in horror.

“We’re the Blackfire Squadron,” said Cad, releasing his grip on the sword as the impaled man went through his final death throes. “We do whatever we want. We take whatever we want. If any of you scum get out of here alive, you’d do well to remember that. And tell others.”

The clank of metal footsteps filtered through the door behind them, and Cad turned to see two warbots dragging the broken chassis of three more machines behind them. The eyes of the warbots then focused on warbot six and the machine emitted a curious string of warbles. Cad scowled as warbot six thudded out into the foyer, still holding Zelina Skars by the throat. The machine peered down at the broken carcasses of the other warbots then turned its oblong cranial unit to the woman in its grasp. Then, before either Cad or Alexis could do anything to stop it, the machine hammered its claw like fist down on top of Zelina Skars head. The organic crunch and splatter of blood and bone was enough to make even Cad wince. The machine then tossed what remained of Zelina Skars aside before joining its remaining two companions and standing to attention beside them.

“I’m not sure if this counts as a successful test or not,” said Alexis with her usual darkly dry humor. She was still holding the red diamond in her hand, cradling it like a newborn baby.

“I think it’s a successful test for us,” said Cad, walking over to the body of Zelina Skars. “Not so much for her, or for Dexter Stone.”

Cad’s watch then chimed an incoming call. “It’s time we move to the next phase,” he said before tapping the screen. A holo image of the Banker appeared, dressed in his usual regalia while wearing a different, though similarly ornate bauta mask.

“I have the information you requested, Mr. Rikkard,” said the Banker, in his old-fashioned, mid-Atlantic accent. “Do you have what I want?”

“Yes,” replied Cad matter-of-factly. “Where shall we meet.”

“Go to Aventine Station,” the Banker replied amiably. “I have a ship waiting there to transport the merchandise. And I will also bring what you need, as well as a gift.”

Cad grunted. “This is purely business,” he said, suspicious of the Banker’s motives. “I don’t need any favors.”

“And I offer you none,” said the Banker, though without any suggestion he’d taken offense. “Call it a gesture of respect, if you prefer. Reliable partners of your caliber are increasingly hard to find.”

Cad grunted again. “Very well, I’ll meet you on Aventine Station in four hours,” he said. The Banker nodded respectfully, and the holo image fizzled out.

“Aventine is in orbit above Liber,” said Alexis, still twirling the diamond in her hands. “How does he know where we are?”

“These people know everything,” said Cad thoughtfully. “But so long as he knows where Rand, Wulfrun, and Knight are, I don’t care. This will all be over soon.”

Cad sheathed the Black Prince sword and together with Alexis and the remaining three alien warbots, they marched out of the building, leaving death and devastation in their wake.

16

Aventine Station was an orbital conference center and hotel whose primary function was to host events and business meetings for the different mining industries on Liber. Normally, armed vessels such as the advanced fighters that Cad and Alexis were flying wouldn’t be allowed to dock, and would instead be warned off by sentry guns and private security ships. However, as with other members of the galaxy’s ultra-rich elite, the Banker seemed to be able to unlock doors that were previously closed to Cad. Similarly, he had been permitted to enter the station still wearing his power armor, though the station controller had drawn the line at weapons, including Cad’s sword.

After exiting their fighters in the docking garage, Cad and Alexis were met by a polite and instantly forgettable member of the space station’s staff. However, the woman’s practiced smile and friendly demeanor soon vanished when the three alien warbots thudded onto the main concourse behind them. The woman had then wasted no time in directing Cad to a grand conference room before making a swift exit. Cad smiled as the sound of the woman’s heels on the marble floor of the concourse increased in tempo and sharpness as she practically fled in terror.

Curiously, the conference room was completely empty, besides an obelisk-like metal box and a companion metal plinth that stood side-by-side in the center of the space. Cad and Alexis approached the objects hesitantly, keeping an eye on the various other exits of the room. Cad couldn’t imagine that the Banker would have staged an ambush, but he didn’t want to take any chances. As he reached within a few meters of the smaller plinth, a holo camera rose out from the center and projected a life-sized image of the Banker directly in front of them.

“Greetings again, Mr. Rikkard and Miss Black,” the Banker said, adding a theatrical bow with a flourish. “Or, should I call you Colonel Rikkard and Colonel Black?” he added with a jaunty upward inflection at the end of the sentence.

Cad snorted a laugh, though he wasn’t surprised that the Banker already knew of his change of fortunes. Nor was he surprised that the enigmatic man was eager to make of point of knowing. However, Cad was similarly keen to highlight that his new arrangement with Dexter Stone was merely one of convenience.

“Mr. Rikkard works fine,” said Cad, resting his hand on his hip where his Black Prince should have been. “And don’t worry about our new titles or our temporary truce with Stone. I just got fed up of wasting ammunition and time killing all of his enforcer cronies. Becoming an honorary member of his army is just a means to an end.”

The Banker’s eyes smiled and he again bowed slightly. “Bravo indeed, Mr. Rikkard. I’ve been following your progress with interest,” he said before becoming more somber. “However, before I give you the information regarding the current whereabouts of Dr. Shelby Rand, and her renegade supporters, permit me to ask what are your intentions when you find them?”

Cad sighed. He was already weary of the Banker’s over-long, if admittedly eloquent waffle. “If you mean do I intend to kill Rand or deliver her to that oaf Dexter Stone, then no,” Cad replied. This seemed to instantly put the Banker at ease. “Rand can blow the Centrum to hell for all I care. I just want the renegades, Knight and Wulfrun. Especially Knight. We have unfinished business.”

“Very well,” said the Banker with another slight bow. “I believe it is now clear that we all have a vested interest in ensuring the good doctor succeeds.”

Cad grunted. “Not all of us,” he said, picturing Dexter Stone’s smug face peering through the cell bars on the CSF space station.

“Indeed,” said the Banker before changing the subject. “If you have the merchandise, please direct it to the square indicated.”

The holo emitter then projected a red square onto the floor in front of the large metal obelisk. Alexis turned to the trio of alien machines, tapped a warbot on the shoulder, and directed it to the newly marked-out location on the floor. The warbot looked at her, its eye constantly shifting shape before it did as Alexis requested. The holo image of the Banker then turned toward the machine, apparently seeing it for the first time.

“Wondrous,” the Banker said, as if he were staring at the missing piece of the Rosetta Stone. “It had always been believed that Damien Doyle kept numerous alien artefacts hidden in various secret locations, but to see a complete alien machine in the flesh, so to speak, is quite something.”

“I take it that our agreement stands, then?” asked Cad, prompting the Banker to reluctantly tear his holographic eyes away from the warbot.

“It does,” replied the Banker. Cad’s watch built into his armor then bleeped and he glanced down to see that a data transfer had been initiated. A mechanical rumble came from the obelisk and Cad watched as the entire slab-like front of the giant metal container slid open. The warbot glanced back at Alexis and she nodded. The machine then obediently stepped inside. Its eye continued to glow brightly as the door rumbled shut again, like the lid of a stone sarcophagus.

“Now for the gift I promised,” said the Banker once the obelisk containing the alien warbot was sealed up tightly.

Another compartment slid open, but this time, it was in the smaller of the two metal boxes. Cad was again about to protest. He preferred not to accept the gift, despite the curious man’s assurances that it would not leave him in the Banker’s debt. However, when he saw what was inside the compartment, he was struck dumb. Alexis regarded Cad quizzically as he approached the compartment as if approaching a timid kitten without trying to frighten it. He then reached inside and pulled out a Katana, holding it up to the light and staring at it reverently.

“It can’t be!” said Cad. “This was lost hundreds of years ago, after the second world war.”

“Lost for a time, yes, but for the last twenty years, it has been in my possession,” the Banker replied, appearing to be pleased by Cad’s awed reaction to the weapon. “This is the Honjō Masamune, the greatest sword ever made by perhaps the greatest swordsmith to have ever lived, Goro Nyudo Masamune,” the Banker said, now talking as if giving a lecture to a group of erudite students. “Claimed in combat by a Samurai named Honjō Shigenaga at the fourth battle of Kawanakajima in fifteen sixty-one. And now it is owned by Colonel Rikkard.”

Cad shook his head in disbelief. Like all swords of repute, he knew the story of the Honjō Masamune well. However, as much as it was a thrill to see and hold the sword, he was still suspicious.

“This weapon is arguably even more valuable than the sword of Charlemagne,” said Cad, holding the ancient blade by his side. “Why would you simply gift it to me?”

“Value to someone such as myself is not measured in dollars, Mr. Rikkard,” replied the Banker amiably. “The sword of Charlemagne is something I never imagined ever owning, or even seeing. In my position, it is rare to be surprised. I merely wish to repay the favor.”

Cad grunted, still not entirely convinced, but he was already past caring. The sword was his and it would remain that way.

“Till we meet again, Mr. Rikkard, Miss Black,” said the Banker with another delicate bow to each of them.

The obelisk then began to sink into the floor, signifying the close of their business deal. Cad nodded respectfully to the Banker then turned to leave.

“One final thing, Mr. Rikkard,” the Banker added as the obelisk was finally swallowed up and the hole in the floor restored flawlessly, to the point where it was impossible to see there had been a hatch there at all. Cad turned and met the Banker’s eyes again. “Upon confirmation of the success of your mission at the Dalrosa diamond mine, Dexter Stone intends to turn these machines against you.”

“I assumed as much, but thanks for the confirmation,” said Cad, turning again to leave.

“There is only one way to prevent the collapse of the bridges, Mr. Rikkard,” the Banker continued, returning to his theatrical style of delivery. “Dexter Stone cannot be allowed to capture Dr. Rand again. If he does, he will waste the little time we have left on a futile quest to repair the bridges. It will be the end for us all.”

Cad scowled and tuned to face the holographic image of the masked man. “Then why, with all of your vast resources, have you not done anything about it yourself?” he asked. The question had been nagging at the back of his mind for some time and the annoyance was evident in his voice. “You’re obviously keen on self-preservation, yet you hide behind your mask and don’t get involved.”

The Banker’s eyes smiled. “We all play our parts, Mr. Rikkard,” he replied mysteriously. “Though I wonder if perhaps your part in this has yet to be fully written?”

Cad’s eyes narrowed. “And what about you? What part do you play in all this?”

The Banker seemed amused or perhaps even pleased to be asked the question. With the full-cover face mask hiding everything but the man’s eyes, Cad found it almost impossible to read the Banker’s expressions.

“I choose not to take sides, Mr. Rikkard,” the Banker answered politely. “For example, if a famous scientist requires shelter from an employer who wished her ill, I can provide it. If the same scientist requires access codes to mothballed super-freighters, I can provide them. If a mercenary needs to replenish his armaments and access safe houses to stay hidden from his enemies, I can arrange it. And if a man of high rank and status desires to contact this mercenary, I can connect them. The Banker assists all those who can pay, without judgment or bias.”

Cad grunted again. He understood what the Banker was saying – he was basically playing all sides. The enigmatic man was like a walking, talking version of Switzerland, remaining neutral and non-partisan on all matters.

“So what’s changed?” Cad asked, wondering why now the Banker was taking a keener interest in the activities of his clients.

“A bank must always have customers, Mr. Rikkard,” the Banker replied smoothly. And with that, he bowed again and was gone. The holo camera sank back into the pedestal and the compartment that had contained the ancient Samurai weapon closed before the pedestal too sank into the floor and disappeared.

“I like him,” said Alexis, draping herself over Cad’s shoulder.

Cad laughed and held up the Honjō Masamune sword again, examining the exquisite quality of its blade. “The problem is, I don’t know whether he means what he says, or he’s just full of crap,” Cad said, turning the blade so that it caught the light.

“Beware of bankers bearing gifts?” said Alexis, also momentarily caught up in the brilliance of the ancient sword’s construction.

Cad grunted and lowered the weapon to his side again. “I don’t know,” he replied, stroking his chin with his thumb. However, he was far less suspicious of the Banker’s motives than he had been prior to the man’s speech. In the end, it was simple – if all the worlds crumbled or burned, the Banker and all of his treasures would burn too. What bothered Cad was something else the man had said: Perhaps your part in this is yet to be fully written? Cad’s part had always been clear. He had a mission to complete and a debt to settle. Nothing had changed, yet for some reason the Banker’s words stuck in his mind.

“Come on, let’s go and attack yet another hideout deep in the Darkspace,” said Alexis after Cad had been silent for a time. “Hopefully, this will be the last one. I’m getting bored of killing renegades.”

17

The return journey from the giant hospital ship, Aesculapius, had been plain sailing, much to Hallam’s relief. However, his relief was short-lived once Dr. Rand’s stim wore off and Hallam was hit with a four-alarm hangover. His discomfort was only made worse once they’d arrived back at Commander Rivas’ renegade hideout, and Dr. Rand had administered a couple of follow-up Randenite radiation treatments. These had completely knocked the wind out of Hallam’s sails to the point where he’d even passed out. However, after a solid ten hours of sleep, Hallam had woken up feeling like a billion dollars. The change in how his body felt in such a short space of time was remarkable, but nothing less than expected from the genius scientist.

After a lackluster breakfast of various rehydrated food rations, Dr. Rand had given Hallam a clean bill of health. The only caveat was that he was no longer resistant to Randenite radiation. Hallam was now just as susceptible to the toxic fuel as everyone else. As caveats went, Hallam was perfectly happy to accept this. However, considering that the next and final stage of their mission involved deploying what was essentially a Randenite bomb to destroy the Centrum, he wasn’t sure how easy it was going to be to follow Dr. Rand’s clinical advice.

Dakota had been at Hallam’s bedside almost constantly during his additional treatments and recovery. He’d now grown so accustomed to her presence that it felt strange whenever she wasn’t around, as if a part of himself was missing. To pass the time, their equally competitive natures had led to them challenging one another to what Dr. Rand had described as “petty, pointless distractions.” These challenges had ranged from taking bets over which of the 303-Squadron were sleeping together, to who could throw a ball into a waste-paper basket the greatest number of times with their eyes closed. Inevitably, the topic of the challenges had soon turned to boxing, with Dakota insisting that she could still take Hallam easily, despite his newly restored health. Hallam had refuted such claims as nonsense, and so naturally, the only way to settle the difference of opinion was in the ring.

“I bet I put you on your ass in the first thirty seconds,” said Dakota as she and Hallam headed toward the makeshift gym. She was whirling her kit-bag in front of her like a propeller blade.

“We’re sparring, Dak,” Hallam hit back. “You’re not supposed to be trying to put me on my ass.”

Dakota then spun the kit bag into Hallam’s gut, catching him completely by surprise. He let out a muffled cry and doubled over.

Dakota laughed triumphantly. “You didn’t even see that coming! Wait until my fists are flying, then we’ll find out who is the better boxer.” However, when Hallam didn’t straighten up again, she quickly became concerned. “Hal, are you okay?” Dakota said, resting a hand on Hallam’s back and ducking down to meet his eyes.

Hallam smiled and grabbed Dakota under her arms before sweeping her leg, tackling her to the deck and pinning her like a wrestler. “Ding, ding, ding, round one to Hallam Knight,” he said, grinning broadly.

Dakota kneed Hallam in the groin and threw him to the side, her eyes fierce. “Damn it, Hal, that’s not, funny!” she yelled at him as Hallam groaned again, though this time due to genuine pain.

“Round one still goes to me,” said Hallam, trying to smile at Dakota but simply managing a grimace.

Dakota was clearly trying to stay mad at him, but she was failing miserably. To hide her own smirk, she threw her kit bag at Hallam, causing him to shield his face and deflect it with his hands.

“You’re an asshole, and I’m still going to beat you,” Dakota said, stifling a laugh.

A loud and obviously faked cough drew their attention to Dr. Rand, who was standing in the corridor, arms folded, staring down at them.

“Is this what counts for bed rest in the Wolf Squadron?” Dr. Rand asked, directing the question to Hallam. The scientist appeared to have mastered the ability to talk to him in the manner of a disappointed teacher.

Hallam jumped up as quickly as he could, considering he was still winded from Dakota’s knee to the groin. “Sorry, Doc, but I feel fine,” he said, trying to charm the scientist with a smile.

“That being the case, I have something to show the both of you,” replied Dr. Rand, who was wearing work coveralls rather than her usual renegade uniform. The coveralls were stained with oil and grease, as if she’d been working underneath an old twentieth-century car.

“Can it wait?” asked Hallam. “I was just about to give Dak another schooling in the squared circle.”

Dakota scoffed loudly, but then noticed Dr. Rand’s vexed expression and tried to turn the disgruntled holler into a cough instead.

“I think you will find what I have to show you far more interesting,” Dr. Rand said after Dakota had stopped fake-coughing. “If you still wish to spar with each other afterwards, then you can, although I suspect you will both be too tired to do so.”

Hallam and Dakota looked at each other, eyebrows raised. “Now you’ve piqued my interest,” said Hallam. “Are you going to tell us what this mystery thing is, or are you just going to keep us guessing?”

Dr. Rand turned and began walking back along the corridor. “You will not need to guess, Mr. Knight,” she called back to him. “You just need to meet me in the main hangar, where all will be revealed.”

Hallam laughed, though in some ways, Dr. Rand’s consistently secretive way of working was also comforting. In a galaxy that was falling apart, it was good to know that some things remained the same. He then turned to Dakota. “Last one to the hangar buys the drinks?”

Dakota shook her head. “I think we’re past playing those silly games now, don’t you?” she said, scowling at him with a good approximation of Dr. Rand’s “disappointed teacher” look.

“What are you talking about?” Hallam began, wondering if this was the same Dakota that had bet she could balance a potato chip on her nose for longer than Hallam could. “We just spent the last couple of days playing silly…” However, he didn’t get chance to finish his complaint, because Dakota had already raced ahead of him and swung around the corner onto the corridor leading directly to the main hangar.

18

By the time Hallam had caught up with Dakota, she was already inside the main hangar of the renegade base. However, despite winning their bet, she hadn’t instantly begun gloating over her victory. Instead, she was staring at something just out of Hallam’s field of view, with a wide-eyed look of amazement. As soon as Hallam got inside the hangar, it became immediately obvious why Dakota was distracted. Resting on mobile platforms were two sets of renegade armor. However, this armor was quite different from the lighter protective gear that Hallam had grown accustomed to wearing. It more closely resembled the advanced power armor that Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black wore, with the main difference being that the metal lacked the iridescent shimmer of the Blackfire Squadron’s gear.

“Where the hell did they come from?” asked Hallam, moving up to one of the sets and inspecting it more closely. Now that he was nearer, Hallam could see that the two sets had been made in distinctly different sizes, with one clearly made for someone with a slimmer physique.

“How do you like my latest invention?”

Hallam spun around to see Dr. Rand standing behind them, hands pressed to the small of her back. She had the proud expression of a sports coach who had just seen her team collect winner’s medals.

“Did you just DIY two sets of power armor?” asked Dakota, pointing to the outfits with a look of pure astonishment.

“Yes, I did,” said the scientist in a matter-of-fact tone that was bordering on smug.

Dakota shook her head and laughed. “You really are a genius, aren’t you?”

Dr. Rand raised an eyebrow. “You are only realizing that now, Miss Wulfrun?” she said in her scholarly tone.

Hallam examined the armor more closely, running his hand along the metal panels and examining the joints. It wasn’t quite as sleek as the self-adjusting, alien-looking gear that the Blackfire Squadron wore, but it was remarkably close.

“How did you do it?” asked Hallam, turning back to Dr. Rand. “And no mysteriously vague answers this time, please. I’m blown away by this and really want to know how you built it.”

Dr. Rand actually seemed pleased by Hallam’s slightly forceful request, and moved closer to demo the armor.

“It is based on a new generation of renegade armor that I was developing but never had chance to complete, due to a lack of resources,” Dr. Rand began, inspecting her creation closely. “Dr. Zubrod from the Aesculapius was kind enough to give me the components I was missing.”

Hallam recalled the crates of broken robotic equipment and power-assisted limb components that Dr. Zubrod had loaded onto Dakota’s fighter before they departed the hospital ship.

“This metal plating looks different too,” said Hallam, rapping his knuckles on the chest plate of one of the suits. It was made of a material he didn’t recall having seen before.

“Very observant, Mr. Knight,” replied Dr. Rand, for once sounding impressed with Hallam, rather than like a disappointed teacher. “It is an alloy I developed for use in Shelby Drives, to shield the drive core and prevent radiation leakage,” the scientist went on. “It is not as strong as the alien alloy used in the armor worn by the Blackfire Squadron, but it will still repel a bullet.”

“What about a sword?” asked Hallam, thinking about Cad Rikkard’s ethereal-looking blade.

“That weapon is an unknown blend of earthy and alien metals,” Dr. Rand replied gloomily. “I would not want to vouch for this, or any armor, protecting against such a unique sword.”

“Great,” said Hallam, sounding as glum as Dr. Rand had done. He remembered how Cad Rikkard seemed to have a particular fetish for killing people with the medieval weapon.

“However, after seeing the Blackfire Squadron armor up close, and having had a chance to wear it myself on the alien home world, I am confident these suits will hold up well,” Dr. Rand added, sensing Hallam’s disquiet. “They will offer protection, augment your strength and, most importantly, protect you against Randenite radiation while inside the refinery core on the Centrum.”

Hallam nodded. He hadn’t forgotten about the requirement to plant the Shelby Field Inverter device in the refinery core, but it hadn’t occurred to him until that moment that the core would be flooded with radiation. Previously, he could have likely made it inside simply by virtue of his radioresistance, but now he was just as vulnerable as everyone else.

“What about helmets?” asked Hallam, spotting that neither set of armor appeared to have them. “Protecting our bodies against radiation isn’t much use if our heads are exposed.”

Dr. Rand smiled as if she’d been waiting for Hallam to make that observation. She reached down to a control panel built into the underside of the right forearm and pressed a button. Instantly, two sections of a mask sprang up out of the front and rear shoulder section of the armor before connecting together to form a menacing-looking combat helmet.

“Okay, now you’re just showing off, Doc!” said Hallam, unable to stop himself from grinning like a child in a toyshop.

“Have they been tested?” asked Dakota, asking another important question.

“That is why you and Mr. Knight are here, Miss Wulfrun,” replied Dr. Rand.

The scientist’s response drew surprised looks from both Hallam and Dakota.

“You want us to test it out in here?” asked Dakota, glancing around the hangar.

Dr. Rand nodded, smiling affably.

“How?” Hallam added before noticing that the hangar space appeared to have been rearranged. There were crates stacked up in odd locations, plus a whole host of other obstacles and vehicles that were not in their usual positions. Then the thump of bootsteps filtered through the open doorway from the corridor outside and the entire 303-Squadron marched through, all wearing their regular renegade armor.

“Commander Rivas’ squadron has kindly volunteered to put you, and the armor, through its paces,” said Dr. Rand, indicating to the row of pilots, which were lining up against the hangar wall. Each appeared to be holding what looked like staffs and batons covered in a thin layer of dense foam.

“I have a hundred bucks on my squadron kicking your augmented asses,” said Commander Rivas, stepping up to Hallam and Dakota and tossing a baton to each of them.

Hallam caught his weapon instinctively and examined it. “Our batons seem to have a lot more foam on them than yours,” he said, weighing the training weapon in his hand.

“Well, yes, of course they do,” Commander Rivas replied, looking at Hallam like he was stupid. “This is just an exercise. I don’t want you to kill any of my squadron, thanks very much. As soon as anyone is knocked down, they’re out of the game.”

Dakota swirled the baton in her hand, showing off her obvious prowess with the weapon. “You put your money on the wrong horse,” she said, smiling and flashing her eyes at the commander.

“We’ll see,” said Commander Rivas confidently. She then returned to her squadron and collected a weapon of her own.

“You’re fighting too?” asked Hallam anxiously. However, he wasn’t sure if his anxiety was due to a fear that he might kill or injure the only renegade commander left, or that Commander Rivas might embarrass him with her fighting skills.

Commander Rivas flashed her eyes, mimicking Dakota’s earlier cocky gesture. “Still think I backed the wrong horse?” she said, smiling.

“I believe the phrase that you renegade pilots use is ‘suit up’,” said Dr. Rand. “Is that the correct terminology?”

Hallam snorted a laugh and nodded. “Yep, that’s right.”

Hallam then rested his baton in front of the larger of the two suits of renegade power armor and stared up at the gear, feeling a tingle run down his spine. He was eager to test the new suit, partly because it sounded like it would be fun, but also because – if they worked – it would finally put him and Cad Rikkard on a more even keel. The mercenary leader had always had superior resources, from faster, better armored, and more powerful ships to alien-inspired power armor, to the CSF’s latest weapons technology. Cad Rikkard had always boasted about his superiority, yet despite all his advantages, Hallam and Dakota had always managed to foil his plans. Yet the next time they met, he’d truly be able to find out whether the mercenary’s abilities lived up to his grand claims.

Hallam cracked his knuckles then smiled at Dr. Rand. “Okay then. Let’s do this.”

19

Hallam and Dakota stood back to back in the center of the hangar, surrounded by the renegades of the 303-Squadron, all hiding behind various obstacles. Dr. Rand had reduced the light level so that the half-finished base resembled a derelict warehouse or damaged super-freighter that was adrift in the Darkspace. After spending thirty minutes getting into the armor and adjusting to it, which had been remarkably easy considering the similarities between it and the Blackfire Squadron armor, the combat exercise was live. However, despite knowing it was an exercise, the eerie setting combined with the fact that they were poised for action still sent Hallam’s pulse racing.

“I bet I take down more of the three-oh-three than you do,” said Dakota as they both stalked forward, gears and motors in their new suits whirring softly.

“We’re not trying to take anyone down, Dak,” replied Hallam, though he wasn’t surprised that Dakota was treating it as a competition. “It’s just a bit of friendly sparring, remember?” Dakota shrugged, and Hallam left a little pause before adding, “But I’ll still take down more than you…”

Dakota laughed and tapped Hallam playfully on the backside with her baton, and in that moment, one of the 303 leapt out of the darkness and took a swing at her. She spotted the attacker just in time and ducked under the strike before preparing to fight back. However, the renegade had already disappeared into the darkness again.

“The three-oh-three aren’t messing around,” said Hallam, now fully invested in the trial, which felt as real as any skirmish they’d fought in. He then spotted a flicker of movement behind a strategically-parked tow truck to his rear. He watched the shape try to flank him and tapped Dakota on the shoulder before nodding towards the vehicle.

“I see them, but there are at least two more behind those crates,” Dakota whispered, keeping her eyes focused ahead. “I’ll take them while you take the one behind the truck.”

Hallam was about to argue back, believing that Dakota was simply trying to get an early lead by taking on a pair of renegades alone, but then he saw more shapes moving. The 303 were trying to trap them in a pincer movement. Hallam had an idea, which he considered also doubled as a good way to test the capabilities of his new power armor. Dropping to a crouch, Hallam focused on the top of the tow truck then pushed off, using the strength in his newly-augmented legs to propel him into the air. The effectiveness of the leap took him by surprise, and he sailed over the top of the tow truck as if flung by a catapult. His landing was heavier and less elegant than he was hoping for, but it served its purpose well. Three renegades from the 303 were now directly in front of him, separated from their companions by the mass of the truck.

Hallam’s sudden arrival had shocked the renegades, giving him the advantage. Surging forward, he swung his foam-covered baton at his nearest opponent, sending the man skating across the hangar deck floor like a hockey puck. Hallam had measured the blow, striking with perhaps half of the total force available to him. He was glad he hadn’t hit harder, remembering Commander Rivas’ comment about not wanting her squadron killed or injured. The two other members of the 303 then attacked, but Hallam parried the initial assault before taking hits to the body and legs. He felt the thuds of the weapons reverberating through his armored shell, but felt no pain. Grabbing one of the renegades by her chest armor, Hallam pulled the woman toward him. Again, he was surprised by the power of his attack and the renegade went flying through the air. The woman then collided with a shelving rack, sending it and her crashing to the deck.

“Sorry!” Hallam called over to the woman, who was still tangled up in the rack, legs stuck up in the air. Then he was hit across the back and he spun around to meet the eyes of another member of the 303. He recognized her as a pilot called Andrea, a former local enforcer from Vediovis, who was as tough as old shoe leather. Hallam took a succession of hard hits, blocking at least some with his staff or his forearm, before he managed to smack the baton out of her hand. Undeterred, Andrea attacked again, launching a kick between Hallam’s legs. The sound of the woman’s steel-tipped boot against the armor rang out in the hangar like a bell. Again, Hallam felt the thump but was spared the debilitating effects of the kick thanks to his new protective shell. Andrea winced and grasped her foot, hopping on the spot and groaning in pain and frustration. Hallam considered swatting her with his baton, but instead simply pushed her over, deeming that the pilot had already suffered enough.

The sound of more fighting reached Hallam from the other side of the hangar. He began to stalk toward the noise, moving through the obstacle course in search of more renegades to test his new armor against. Reaching another long stack of crates, Hallam considered again leaping over the top to surprise anyone who may have been waiting in ambush. However, he then had a better idea. Placing the baton down on the deck, he pushed his fingers between two of the heavy metal boxes and prepared to create a path directly between them. Taking a deep breath, he then pulled the two crates apart, causing them to screech and grind across the metal deck plating. The noise was ear-splitting, like a boat running aground on sharp rocks. Despite the power armor, Hallam was surprised to find that the deed still required physical effort on his part. Yet it would have taken at least four people to do what he had just done alone.

Through the gap in the crates, Hallam saw another renegade running into the darkness, clearly spooked by Hallam’s inhuman feat of strength. Grabbing his baton, he chased after them, putting on a burst of speed that would have made an Olympic one-hundred-meter runner jealous. The clank of his metal bootsteps alerted the renegade to his approach and the man dodged aside. Hallam felt a baton strike his right shin and he went down, clattering across the deck and smashing through another stack of crates. He pushed himself up, a little shaken from the fall, but again he felt no pain. Glancing down at his armor, he saw only a couple of scrapes and light dents. He laughed again. “The doc is more than a genius; she’s a miracle worker!” he said, still marveling at the scientist’s achievement.

Hallam then saw the renegade that had tripped him up advance, baton raised. Behind him, Dakota was fighting two more renegades, including Commander Rivas. Hallam pushed the toppled crates aside, forgetting his augmented strength for a moment and sending one of them hurtling into the hangar wall, where it smashed like a block of ice. He rose to his feet just in time to parry a strike from the renegade. Hallam also recognized this member of the 303. He was called Jesse Hobbs and was the pilot that Hallam had borrowed the boxing gear from earlier. Hobbs was a good fighter and powerfully built, but Hallam knew that the renegade’s size advantage counted for nothing against his new power armor. Hobbs attacked, managing to sneak a couple of solid blows to Hallam’s body before he blocked and countered, jabbing the baton into the renegade’s gut. Hobbs went down to one knee and Hallam was about to disarm him when one of the crates that had been dislodged after Hallam crashed into the barricade toppled from its precarious perch. Hallam cursed and raised his hands out of an instinct to protect his head. However, to his surprise, he caught the crate and was able to hold it aloft like a modern-day Atlas.

Jesse also cursed, staring up at the crate in awe of Hallam’s augmented strength. The renegade then threw down his baton and held up his hands. “Okay, you win!” he said, laughing. “I’d think I’d rather face a squad of Vanguard Enforcers than you wearing that powered gear!”

Hallam smiled and tossed the crate aside, again making it look as easy as if he were throwing a cardboard box. Glancing across to Dakota, he saw that she had taken out one of the two renegades she had been fighting. This left only Commander Rivas still standing as the sole remaining member of the 303. Hallam recalled the commander’s boast about how her squadron would win the friendly contest easily. Let’s see how you handle both of us… Hallam thought. Then he picked up his baton, and went to join in the fight. Commander Rivas saw Hallam approaching and her face fell. She backpedaled from Dakota, eyes flicking between the two members of the Wolf Squadron.

“It looks like you’re going to be a hundred bucks lighter in a few seconds,” said Dakota, grinning at the commander.

“Come on, at least make it a fair fight,” Commander Rivas hit back, putting on a good show for the sake of her squadron. The 303 had now all regrouped to watch the final conflict, along with Dr. Rand. “Let’s go one-on-one, starting with Wolf One,” Commander Rivas continued, waving Dakota on.

Hallam shrugged and extended a hand toward the commander, inviting Dakota to go first. Dakota smiled and whirled the baton in her hand before attacking. Commander Rivas dodged and managed to land a glancing blow to Dakota’s shoulder. As a former CSF officer, the commander would have been trained in the same combat techniques as Hallam was, and it seemed that her more advanced age had not dulled her instincts or abilities. Dakota advanced again, but the bulk of the suit made her less agile in her attacks than she normally would have been. This gave Commander Rivas an opening, and she dodged again before managing to strike a blow to the back of Dakota’s head, sending her down. There was a roar from the crowd as Dakota angrily punched the deck, creating a fist shape dent in the panel.

“Damn it,” Dakota cursed, staring up at Hallam. “How many have you got so far?”

Hallam had to think for a moment before answering. “With Jesse Hobbs choosing to submit, that makes four for me. How about you?”

Dakota cursed. “I’m on four as well…” she said, climbing to her feet and folding her arms like a teenager that had just been grounded.

Hallam smiled. “That means when I show Commander Rivas how this is really done, I win.”

“Don’t be so sure, Tanker Man,” said Commander Rivas while circling around Hallam. She was breathing heavily but still looked composed. “I think my hundred bucks is pretty safe,” Rivas added before waving Hallam on. “Let’s see what you’ve got, Hallam Knight.”

Hallam moved in, watching the commander’s footwork and recognizing her technique from his CSF training. He lunged toward the commander’s body, feinting an attack and drawing the commander forward. The commander took the bait and Hallam side-stepped, swinging his baton at the same time. Commander Rivas blocked, but just barely, and the power of Hallam’s strike sent her staggering off balance. Hallam pressed his advantage and attacked again, but the commander had recovered swiftly and blocked before narrowly missing with a swing of her own. The crowd “oohed” and “aahed” as the fight progressed. Then the commander attacked again and Hallam parried, this time knocking the baton out of her hand. With Commander Rivas now defenseless, Hallam readied the winning strike, already picturing Dakota’s distraught face in his mind. However, as he went to swing the weapon, his arm seized up and the gears and motors in his suit fell silent.

“What the hell?” Hallam called out, realizing that he was unable to move.

However, instead of calling off the fight and trying to assist, Commander Rivas wasted no time in recovering her baton and sweeping Hallam off his feet. He crashed heavily to the deck, sending mini shockwaves through the hangar. The fall winded him and he groaned, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. When he opened them again, he saw Commander Rivas standing on his chest, baton raised in triumph.

“Three-oh-three wrecking crew!” Commander Rivas yelled, causing the rest of the squadron to repeat the chant, whooping and cheering.

Dr. Rand walked over to Hallam, clapping politely. Dakota appeared at her side soon after, though she was clearly trying to stifle a laugh.

“An interesting malfunction, Mr. Knight. Thank you for discovering it,” said Dr. Rand, sounding as studious as ever. “Rest assured that I will have that flaw corrected in no time at all.”

“Thanks, Doc,” said Hallam sarcastically, staring up at her from the flat of his back. Commander Rivas had also yet to climb down off his chest, not that her weight was causing him any discomfort.

“Not bad, Tanker Man,” said Commander Rivas. “But not quite good enough.”

Hallam scoffed. “I would have had you were it not for the suit malfunction,” he hit back.

Commander Rivas shrugged and jumped down onto the deck beside him. “Maybe, maybe not,” she said, smiling. “I guess we’ll never find out.”

Dr. Rand had crouched down beside Hallam while he had been talking to Commander Rivas, and was tapping commands into the control pad on his right arm. Suddenly, the suit powered up again, and Hallam was able to stand.

“If you’ll remove the armor and leave it with me, I’ll make the necessary modifications,” said Dr. Rand before turning to Dakota. “You too, Miss Wulfrun, just to be safe.”

Hallam and Dakota removed the armor with the help of the mobile platforms, which doubled as storage units for the suits. Without the power armor on, Hallam felt strangely light, as if he was walking on a cloud. He also felt wearier than he had expected to.

“Why do I feel like I’ve been in an actual fight?” said Hallam, flexing his throbbing shoulder.

“You will get used to it, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand, already working on her palm computer. “Although the armor augments your strength, it still works on feedback from your muscles. I suggest you get some rest before we run through another few tests tomorrow.”

Hallam nodded. “Okay, Doc, though I’m going to hit the showers first,” he said, patting the suit affectionately, in the same way that Dakota patted the head of her lucky mascot, Bob the bear. “If I’m going to be spending quality time in this tin can, I don’t want it stinking like Dakota’s quarters.”

Hallam felt a jab to his ribs and turned to see Dakota glaring at him, though with a mischievous look in her eyes.

“I’m going to hang back here a little while, but I’ll see you in the canteen in thirty?” said Dakota after she’d finished glowering at him. “I need something to eat before getting some sleep.”

Hallam nodded. “Okay, so long as I don’t have to watch you eating pineapple on pizza.”

“Just the usual rehydrated rations, I’m afraid,” Dakota replied with a shrug.

“It’s a date, then,” said Hallam, smiling. Then he left the hangar deck, still massaging his aching muscles, and entered the shower block. The icy rogue moon that the base was built on provided a plentiful supply of water. This meant that the showers on Commander Rivas’ base ran as hot and as long as the ones on the Centrum. Hallam hadn’t realized quite how much he needed the soothing, therapeutic effect of hot water streaming over his tired face until he’d gotten into the shower. For several minutes, he just stood under the stream, letting it wash over his body, feeling the aches and pains slowly ebb away. Then he felt a piercing sting on his backside and leapt forward, colliding with the cold tiles of the shower block. Cursing and spinning around, he could see a figure through the water and the steam, and he cursed again, realizing that he’d been tricked.

“Damn it, Dak, you almost gave me a heart attack!” he called over to her. Dakota laughed and hung up the towel on the rack. Then to Hallam’s surprise, she walked into the stream of hot water beside him. It was only then that he realized she was naked.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” Dakota said, standing practically toe-to-toe with him.

“Apart from a sore ass, I’m perfectly fine,” said Hallam, though his heart was now thumping so fast that any residual pain from the towel whip was a distant memory.

“Good to know,” replied Dakota, resting her arms over Hallam’s shoulders.

Hallam smiled and shook his head. “Doesn’t this violate some sort of squadron code of ethics?” he said, slipping his hands around Dakota’s waist.

“Maybe in the CSF, but not in here,” replied Dakota, moving closer. “In here, it’s just you and me, like it always has been.”

“I had a feeling I was going to like being a Darkspace Renegade,” said Hallam, eliciting another little laugh from Dakota. Then they both slid underneath the stream of hot water and kissed.

20

Hallam woke to the sound of the hideout’s general alarm blaring in the hallway outside his quarters. He shot upright in bed, as if he’d just seen a scorpion crawling along his pillow. Then the door to his quarters slid open sharply, allowing a column of harsh white light to flood the room. Hallam squinted and tried to shield his eyes from the glare with his hand before Dr. Rand and Commander Rivas burst inside.

“Mr. Knight, I have been trying to reach your communicator for the last…” a flustered Dr. Rand began. Then she stopped mid-sentence as Dakota sprang up next to Hallam in the bed, looking similarly flustered. Dakota then saw Dr. Rand and Commander Rivas, and hurriedly pulled the sheet up to cover herself. If the light bleeding in from outside the room hadn’t already provided ample illumination, her glowing red face would have lit up the space instead. Unfortunately, in the process of pulling the sheet up to cover herself, she also pulled it off Hallam, leaving him totally exposed under the spotlight-like glare from the corridor outside.

“Umm, yeah, sorry, Doc,” said Hallam, grabbing his pillow and thrusting it over his lap to protect what remained of his modesty. “I sort of turned it off and…”

“No need to explain…” Dr. Rand cut in abruptly. She had turned her head and was also now holding a hand up to shield her eyes. However, she wasn’t trying to blot out the light, but the sight of Hallam with only a thin pillow covering himself. “Just meet me in the briefing room as soon as you can, please,” she hastily added. And with that, Dr. Rand made a swift exit.

However, Commander Rivas did not leave the room. Instead, she folded her arms and rested back against the wall. “I thought you two were supposed to be getting some sleep,” the commander said with a twinkle in her eye.

“Well, we did get at least a little sleep,” said Hallam, a corner of his mouth curling into a smirk. However, a sharp slap to the back of his head from Dakota quickly wiped the smile off his face.

“What’s going on, Commander?” said Dakota, swiftly moving the conversation on, though her face was still bright red.

Commander Rivas pushed away from the wall, turning suddenly serious. “We’ve picked up two ships on long-range scanners. The configurations appear to match your friends from the Blackfire Squadron.”

Hallam cursed and thumped a fist into the bed. “Damn it, can’t that asshole just let it drop,” he said, shaking his head. “He’d still be in a CSF gulag if it wasn’t for us.”

“Well, he’s on his way, and that’s not even the strangest part,” said Commander Rivas with an air of mystery that was worthy of Dr. Rand herself. “Their transponder IDs are showing them as CSF privateers, and the pilots are listed as none other than Colonel Rikkard and Colonel Black.”

This time, it was Dakota that cursed. “He’s gone crawling back to Dexter Stone, after everything that man did to him?”

Commander Rivas sighed and shrugged. “It certainly looks that way,” she replied. Then she grabbed the bundle of clothes that still lay sprawled across the floor where Hallam and Dakota had hastily removed them the night before. Rivas threw them at Hallam, hitting him in the face. “So how about you put some pants on and meet us in the briefing room in five,” the commander went on. “And I’d probably suggest getting back into your new armor. Something tells me you’re going to need it.”

21

Hallam and Dakota moved through the corridors towards the main command operations center, once again wearing their new renegade power armor. The lights inside the hideout were flickering chaotically, and there were sporadic power outages occurring all over the base. The outages had quickly grown worse even in the time it had taken them to get suited up. However, as they finally approached the briefing room, Commander Rivas and Dr. Rand were already on their way out.

“Hey, sorry we’re late; it took us longer to get back into these damn suits that I expected,” said Hallam, worrying that they’d missed the briefing.

“The short version is that the base is losing power, we’re in big trouble, and we don’t know why,” said Commander Rivas, ushering them into the command operations center. The lights then flickered again before going out completely, pitching the base into total darkness. A second later, the emergency low-level strip lights kicked in, replacing the blackness with an ominous dark green hue, as if the base had been flooded with a noxious gas. “The main power generator is down,” said Commander Rivas, rushing into the operations command center and heading straight to her command computer.

“How is that possible? I thought each ship that was used to build these hideouts has its own power generator,” said Dakota, following Commander Rivas inside. “They can’t all have failed at the same time.”

“Remember that this base was abandoned before it was finished,” said Dr. Rand as they hurried up to the command computer. “The power generators were never linked together, which means everything is run off the super-liner’s generator. Given the vastly reduced size of the base, this had proven sufficient, until now.”

“Is it just a power failure, then?” asked Dakota.

“Considering that Cad Rikkard just arrived with his oddball partner, I somehow doubt that,” said Hallam, gripping the side of the command console so tightly that his powered gloves dented the metal.

“It’s not a random power failure. The generator has been destroyed,” said Dr. Rand, reading the data on the screen and confirming Hallam’s suspicions.

“But the Blackfire Squadron are still holding position in orbit,” Commander Rivas cut in, scowling down at the readings. “There were no missile launch warnings and our turrets haven’t activated. How can they have done this?”

Hallam’s eyes grew wide at the mention of the base’s turret defenses. “Wait, with the generator taken out, is the defense grid down too?”

Commander Rivas shook her head. “No, we rigged those into the emergency batteries for precisely that reason. But the backup cells won’t last long. We have maybe an hour if we’re lucky.”

One of the other computer terminals in the command center chimed an alert and the man working at the station spoke up. “Commander, turrets one through four just went offline!” he called over.

“What? How!” Commander Rivas replied, rushing over to the console.

“Five through eight are also going offline,” a second renegade called out from another station.

“Is there a security feed of the exterior of the base?” said Hallam, moving in front of Commander Rivas’ console. “Maybe we can see what’s causing the damage.”

Dr. Rand thought for a moment then cleared the screen of the command computer. “The original ship docking cameras may still be functional,” she said while working quickly to initialize the feed. A hazy external view of one of the ships that formed part of the hideout then appeared. The image showed nothing but a dull gray hull with the icy rocks of the rogue moon in the background.

“Can you get an angle on one of the clusters of sentry turrets?” asked Dakota.

“I’ll have to cycle through all the functional cameras in turn,” replied Dr. Rand, who continued to tap away at the console as Commander Rivas returned.

“The defense grid is going offline, and we can’t do anything to stop it,” reported the commander. “We need to evacuate before Cad Rikkard blows this place to hell.”

Hallam frowned, pressing the cool metal of his armored fist to his chin as he meditated on their predicament. “He won’t just nuke the base,” he said, remembering how Cad Rikkard wanted to beat him, face-to-face. The mercenary wanted to humble him and make him admit that Cad was the better man. Nuking the base would deny him the satisfaction he craved. “Whatever Rikkard is planning, he’ll come for me and Dakota personally. He’s obsessed,” Hallam added.

Dr. Rand continued to cycle through different external camera feeds on the command computer while Hallam watched the screen. Then he thought he spotted something.

“Wait, go back three of four feeds, Doc,” Hallam said, leaning in closer so that he could make out more detail in the fuzzy images. Dr. Rand stopped the update and paged back through the recent camera feeds, one by one. On the fourth feed, the image of a warbot appeared in the corner of the display. It was stood on the hull of one of the vessels and was ripping into a sentry turret with its powerful claws.

“That’s how he’s done it,” said Hallam, hammering his armored fist into the console and leaving another dent in the metal. “He’s using the alien warbots that Dexter Stone had on the CSF space station.”

“But didn’t one of those things attack Stone himself?” said Dakota. “He must be getting desperate to unleash those things.”

“Alexis had some sort of control device,” said Hallam, remembering the encounter on Dr. Rand’s base, when the Blackfire Squadron managed to neutralize the hideout’s warbot. He then turned to Dr. Rand. “Maybe that thing also worked on the alien machines?” he added. However, Dr. Rand’s anxious eyes told him everything he needed to know.

“These alien machines are more than mere automatons,” the scientist began. “Neither I nor the hacker Falken, for all her talents, could possibly grasp the full measure of their programming. Whatever system of control Cad Rikkard has enforced, it will not last. Sooner or later, those machines will do as they please. They are like wild animals that cannot ever be truly tamed.”

Commander Rivas cursed then grabbed a headset from the side of her console and pulled it on. “That’s it, I’m sounding a general evacuation. We’ll have to regroup and come up with a plan b,” she said while opening a base-wide channel. “Attention all personnel, this is the commander. Evacuate the base immediately. I repeat, evacuate immediately. Evac shuttle one and all three-oh-three squadron fighters are to launch and rendezvous at point beta four. Ground defense team on me in the main hangar. Prepare to repel the enemy.” The commander then threw down the headset and barked commands at the crew in the operations command center, ordering them to get to the evacuation shuttle at once.

“We have to get the heavy fighter out of here before Rikkard arrives,” said Dakota. “If that’s lost or captured, then we’re finished.”

“It’s fueled and ready to go in the auxiliary launch bay,” said Dr. Rand. “Commander Rivas was due to take it out for another shakedown test.”

Dakota sighed and shrugged. “Well, it’s combat-ready now, whether we like it or not,” she said with a fatalistic air. “I’m sure it will do fine.”

Hallam then met Commander Rivas’ eyes. “We’ll take the doc with us in the heavy fighter and meet you at rendezvous beta four,” he said, jumping down from the command platform and causing the deck to shake.

Hallam and Dakota then began to leave, but Dr. Rand caught Hallam’s arm to stop him. “No, we must go directly to the Centrum now,” the scientist said, almost pleading with him. “The net is closing in around us, Mr. Knight. We have no more hideouts to escape to. Everything that is left of the Darkspace Renegades is here. It’s now or never.” Then Dr. Rand paused, as if working up the courage to make a big announcement. “And I’m coming with you,” she added resolutely. The statement almost floored Hallam and it took him a moment to recover. Dakota, however, was quick to rebuff the suggestion.

“That wasn’t the plan, Dr. Rand,” Dakota hit back, shaking her head at the scientist. “We’re supposed to go in with a fire team from the three-oh-three, and have Commander Rivas fly in to haul our asses out of the Centrum before it blows.”

“Those plans no longer matter, Miss Wulfrun,” said Dr. Rand with the calm assuredness that they’d come to expect from the genius scientist and leader of the Darkspace Renegades. “This attack changes everything. It means that Dexter Stone is looking to end this now. We must assault the Centrum while we still can, and while they least expect it.”

Dakota angrily pushed away from the command console and looked to Hallam for support. However, although he was just as unsure as Dakota was about the sudden change of tactics, what Dr. Rand said had made sense.

“If we evacuate this base, Stone will think he has us on the run, and won’t be expecting an attack,” said Hallam, looking at Dakota, who appeared ready to punch him. “I don’t like it, Dak, but it may be our best chance.” Then Hallam shrugged. “Hell, it may be our only chance.”

The four renegades were silent for a time as each of them mulled over the options and the decision that had to be made. Bootsteps continued to thud around the command center and along the corridor leading to the main hangar. The 303-Squadron pilots were preparing to scramble, while a squad of renegades had set up defensive positions in the hangar, ready for an attack.

“Intruders in section five, intruders in section five!” a frantic voice called out over the internal PA system. “Hull breach… Emergency bulkheads in place…” the staccato report continued. Then there was the crash of metal against metal followed by horrified cries of pain and terror. “Two intruders! … What the hell are they!”

There was a scream then the speakers went dead. Commander Rivas again grabbed the headset, shouting into the mic for the renegade to respond, but the speaker returned only static.

“We have to go, right now,” said Dr. Rand, again with remarkable composure, considering the circumstances. “No more debate. That is my order.”

Commander Rivas then drew her sidearm and loaded it. “If you’re going, then I’m coming too,” she announced. “If we’re drawing up new plans on the fly, you’ll need me. And you’ll need me to fight the enforcers inside the Centrum too.”

Hallam again glanced at Dakota, but she seemed resigned to the new direction, just as he was. “What about the three-oh-three?” Hallam said, directing the question to the commander. “If we do manage to pull this off, we’ll still need someone to get us off that station before it blows.”

“Leave them to me,” said Commander Rivas confidently. “First, let’s try to get off this base, without getting mauled by those alien warbots or sliced to pieces by Cad Rikkard.”

Dr. Rand cleared the external camera feeds from the computer and began hurriedly inputting a new sequence of commands, using her unique, alien-looking programming language. “Speaking of warbots, why don’t we see if we can’t even the odds a little,” the scientist said. She then executed the command, causing a double door to slide open at the rear of the command center. The rising whine of power cores energizing filled the room before a pair of red eyes shone out through the darkness. Moments later, a Theseus-Class warbot thudded into the command center. The machine stopped, but the thud of heavy metal footsteps remained. Hallam scowled at the door and saw a second pair of red eyes glowing in the gloom. Then another Theseus-class warbot was exposed to the subtle green glow of the emergency lights. Despite everything, Hallam laughed.

“Are you sure these things won’t just team up with their alien buddies from another planet?” Hallam said, finding the prospect of this darkly humorous.

Dr. Rand sighed and Hallam fully expected her to shoot him down with a teacherly reprimand. However, the scientist again surprised him.

“If they do join together with their alien brethren, then I believe that we are ‘royally screwed’,” replied Dr. Rand in her measured, scholarly tone. Hallam, Dakota, and Commander Rivas all recoiled and stared back at the scientist, eyes wide.

“Damn, I thought I’d seen and heard it all,” said Hallam, unable to stop himself smiling.

Dr. Rand raised her eyebrows and looked Hallam dead in the eyes. Then with a chilling solemnity, she added. “Believe me, Mr. Knight, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

22

Hallam, Dakota and Dr. Rand moved swiftly onto the main hangar deck with the two Theseus-class warbots trudging behind them. Shouts and gunfire echoed along adjoining corridors, where the renegade ground defense squads were still engaged with the alien warbots sent by Cad Rikkard. Commander Rivas had gone ahead to give her pilots their final orders, as well as hurrying the few remaining personnel without immediate roles into the escape shuttle. The pilots of the 303-Squadron were now in the cockpits of their fighters, sealed inside the main launch bay, waiting for the outer hangar doors to open. Commander Rivas was stood with some of the deck crew, impatiently tapping her foot on the deck.

“Get those damn bay doors open!” Commander Rivas hollered, foot tapping even faster than before. “There’s only two of them against the entire three-oh-three. If we move fast, we can take out the Blackfire Squadron before they breach the base.”

Several of the crew shouted urgent replies, but still the bay doors remained closed. Then the base was rocked by a series of hard explosions, which shook the deck, knocking several renegades who were rushing around the hangar off their feet.

“What the hell was that?” Commander Rivas called out, running to a nearby computer terminal and frantically working the screen. She then hammered her fists onto the computer and cursed. “They’ve crippled the launch door mechanism. We can’t launch our fighters. And even worse, they’re stuck in the bay.”

Another heavy thud reverberated through the deck, but this time, the source was more localized. Hallam peered around the hangar, expecting the worst, then saw powerful cutting beams slicing through the hull close to the hangar bay doors.

“They’re breaching the base; everyone get back!” Hallam cried out, ushering Dr. Rand into cover.

The two alien warbots that had broken into the hideout earlier then thudded into the hangar, driving back a squad of four renegades who were desperately trying to hold them off. The lead warbot swung its claw-like fist, sending a renegade defender flying into the hangar and tumbling across the deck as if blown by a gale-force wind. The remaining renegade fighters continued to fire at point-blank range, but the warbots seemed impervious to their weapons. Two renegades were caught in the clutches of a warbot and smashed together like cymbals being clashed. The final defender staggered back, trying to run, but fell. The man was mercilessly crushed underfoot and mangled into a bloody pulp by the warbot’s feet.

“Fall back!” shouted Commander Rivas. “All remaining personnel, defend the hangar deck!”

The cutting beams finished slicing through the hull and a chunk of metal fell from the ceiling and slammed into the deck, again causing it to shudder. Moments later, Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black jumped through the breaching tunnel, moving with inhuman speed due to their alien armor. The crack of Cad’s advanced rifle and Alexis Black’s twin Five-Seven-Seven pistols filled the air. Within seconds, five more renegade defenders lay dead.

Commander Rivas retreated into cover beside Hallam, Dakota, and Dr. Rand, pistol in hand. “Bar the eight pilots that are stuck in their cockpits, we’re down to just five renegades, plus us.”

Hallam shook his head. Even with the advantage of numbers and two Theseus class warbots waiting in the wings, he knew those odds weren’t good.

“Where are those damn machines?” growled Hallam, looking back along the corridor for the tank-like leviathans.

“Never mind them; we need to make sure the heavy fighter is okay,” said Dakota. Turning to Commander Rivas, she added, “Is the auxiliary launch pod still functional?”

Commander Rivas nodded. “It was originally part of a different ship that was tacked on to the main bay, so its launch systems are still active.”

“We can’t leave the commander and the others to face Rikkard and these alien machines alone,” protested Hallam, but the commander was quick to shut down his objection.

“You can and you will,” Commander Rivas hit back. “You have to continue with the mission. We can take care of ourselves.”

Cad and Alexis continued to advance through the hangar as the renegade ground squad fired back from their defensive positions. However, the alien warbots were almost on them, their heavy metal feet shaking the deck plating with each long stride. Then the deck shook even more heavily and Hallam glanced behind to see the two Theseus-class warbots that Dr. Rand had activated finally trudge through the opening. Compared to the fluid, organic motions of the alien warbots, the human-built Theseus bots moved like geriatrics. However, the Theseus units were also built like tanks, and at least in pure size, they outmatched even the powerful alien machines.

“Go, while there’s still time,” said Commander Rivas as the four warbots moved to confront each other in the middle of the deck. “We’ll keep them occupied for as long as we can so you can get away.”

Dr. Rand reached out and took Commander Rivas’ hand. Her bottom lip trembled, and for a second, Hallam was sure the scientist was about to talk her friend out of her decision. Then Dr. Rand’s expression hardened like armor and the leader of the Darkspace Renegades came to the fore.

“I’ll see you at the Centrum, as planned, Commander,” Dr. Rand said. The words were spoken with such firmness that Hallam realized it was not a request, but a demand.

“You can count on it,” replied Commander Rivas.

Dr. Rand released the commander’s hand and looked at Hallam and Dakota in turn. “It’s time for us to leave.”

Hallam forced down a dry swallow and met Dakota’s anxious eyes. He could see that she was also conflicted about abandoning the base, but there was silent agreement between them. With Dr. Rand shielded behind them, Hallam and Dakota said hurried goodbyes to Commander Rivas and made a move for the auxiliary launch pod.

Watching out of the corner of his eyes, Hallam saw the four warbots stomp directly into the line of fire between the renegade defenders and the Blackfire Squadron. Bullets pinged off the metal shells of the machines and Hallam heard Commander Rivas order her squad to hold fire. Moments later, the crack of Cad’s rifle and Alexis’ twin pistols also ceased. Hallam saw Cad and Alexis move out of cover and observe the machines, as if they were in ringside seats to a boxing match. An eerie silence fell over the hangar as the colossal bots squared off. Curiosity got the better of him and Hallam stopped, crouching down behind a stack of heavy metal storage containers to watch. Dakota had moved ahead with Dr. Rand still in tow, but then she noticed that Hallam was no longer with her.

“Hal, what the hell are you doing?” Dakota called back to Hallam in a hushed voice.

“Get the ship ready, Dak,” Hallam answered in similarly muted tones. “I need to know that Rikkard is stopped. I can’t just leave these people to be slaughtered by him.”

“Hal, we don’t have time for this!” Dakota hit back, but Hallam couldn’t leave without knowing whether the two titanic Theseus warbots had managed to hold the Blackfire Squadron back.

“I’ll be there, I promise,” said Hallam, turning back to the warbots. “Just go, and I’ll catch you up.”

Dakota growled and continued on toward the auxiliary launch pod. Hallam watched, wide-eyed, as the warbots raised their arms and clashed. The noise was deafening as metal fists and claws struck with colossal force. Hallam felt a flutter in his stomach as the Theseus warbots initially appeared to gain the upper hand. The machines surged ahead, hammering the alien warbots to the torso and head, forcing them to retreat. Then his positivity was swallowed up like raindrops falling in the ocean as the alien warbots quickly adapted. First blocking the attacking blows, the alien machines then countered with devastating effectiveness. They struck the weak points of the mighty Theseus bots, where the limbs joined to the torsos. Like watching a car crash, Hallam was unable to tear his eyes away as the alien machines tore the limbs from the Theseus warbots and held them up like clubs. Unable to adapt or respond, the Theseus bots were helpless as the alien attackers used the arms to pummel and smash the renegade bots to pieces, like they were nothing more than cheap toys.

“Take their weapons!” Alexis Black called out to the machines. The warbots instantly surged forward, pushing through the still smoldering and sparking remains of the Theseus machines toward the remaining renegades. Rifle fire erupted into the hangar as the panicked renegade defenders tried in vain to stop the advancing alien bots. Their bullets merely rattled off the warbots, doing little more than denting and scuffing their alien armor. Two renegades were killed instantly and a third was thrown twenty meters across the deck before Commander Rivas finally yelled out a surrender. Hallam gritted his teeth and glanced toward the auxiliary launch pod. Dakota and Dr. Rand had already made it through, and Hallam knew he should go too, but he couldn’t bring himself to abandon the remaining renegades. Turning back to the defenders, Hallam now saw they had thrown down their weapons and were on their knees with their hands on their heads. Commander Rivas was out in front, with one of the mighty machines staring down at her with its vee-shaped eye.

“Where is Hallam Knight!” growled Cad Rikkard, storming toward Commander Rivas, hand tight around the grip of his sword. “I know he is here. Tell me!” he roared.

“You’re too late,” Commander Rivas answered, rising to her feet and meeting Cad’s eyes. Alexis Black had marched up beside the leader of the Blackfire Squadron, and was now holding a Bo staff instead of her Five-Seven-Sevens. “They’re long gone, and before you ask, I won’t tell you a damn thing about where they are.”

Cad thrust out his left hand and caught Commander Rivas around the throat. He lifted her off the deck and slowly drew his Black Prince sword from its sheath.

“I will only ask this once more,” said Cad, his seething rage causing the words to drip from his tongue like acid. He pressed the tip of the sword below Commander Rivas’ sternum and repeated his question, word by word. “Where. Is. Hallam. Knight.”

Commander Rivas grabbed Cad’s armored gauntlet and, mustering all the strength she had left, spat in the mercenary’s face. Cad’s expression twisted with rage and he prepared to thrust the blade through the commander’s flesh, but Hallam could stand it no longer.

“Stop!” Hallam yelled, rising to his feet. His voice cut through the tension with the clarity of a church bell ringing in the dead of night. “I’m here, Rikkard. Put her down.”

Cad’s head snapped toward Hallam, and his eyes narrowed. Tossing Commander Rivas to the deck, the mercenary smiled cruelly and began to take slow, measured paces toward Hallam. The alien warbots remained to guard the renegades, while Alexis Black followed the leader of the Blackfire Squadron. The clack of the female mercenary’s boots on the deck matched those of Cad Rikkard’s, like two metronomes beating in perfect time with one another. As she got closer, Hallam saw that the female mercenary also wore a cruel, sadistic smile. It was a look Hallam had seen before. It was the face of the dark form of Alexis Black. The Alexis Black that had suppressed her normally buoyant and playful side and replaced it with bitterness and bile.

“You could have shown yourself earlier and spared needless deaths,” said Cad, continuing his measured advance. “Perhaps Rand was wrong about your supposed nobility and moral fortitude?”

“Those deaths are on you, Rikkard,” Hallam hit back, clenching his fists and hearing the metal in his gloves creak under the strain. “Just like the deaths of the dozens of others you’ve slaughtered are on you too.”

Cad smiled and flourished his sword. “I only have two more lives to take,” he said, the malevolence in his voice matching the malice in his eyes. “Your time is finally up, Knight,” continued Cad smoothly. “No more running. You and I will end this, right now.”

Seeing Cad up close and being forced to listen to his spiel reminded Hallam how much he despised the man and his blinkered arrogance. “Save it, Colonel Rikkard,” Hallam hit back, spitting the word “colonel” at the mercenary. “I know you’ve crawled back to Dexter Stone. For all your talk, you’re not special. You’re just afraid that you’ll realize exactly how ordinary you really are.”

Cad’s hand tightened around the grip of his sword, but he continued his unhurried pace, as if savoring the moment before the kill.

“I only used Stone to get to you,” said Cad. “He’ll get his due soon enough.” Hallam could see that the mercenary was fighting hard to keep a grip on his emotions, and not give himself over to rage. Cad wanted to enjoy his victory, Hallam realized. “And you’re about to find out just how special I am,” Cad continued, aiming the tip of his sword at Hallam.

Hallam gritted his teeth again. He wanted to fight Cad Rikkard, right there and then, but he knew he couldn’t beat both members of the Blackfire Squadron alone. And he knew he couldn’t risk being killed. Glancing to the stack of metal containers by his side, Hallam had an idea. He casually leaned up against the heavy metal boxes, as if nonchalantly dismissing the threat of the two armed and armored killers in front of him.

“Do you know what your real weakness is, Colonel?” said Hallam, wrapping his hand around one of the crates.

Cad Rikkard laughed and flourished his sword again. “Overconfidence? Arrogance? Vanity?” the mercenary said, laughing again. “I’ve heard it all before, and all from people who have died at the edge of my sword.”

“You are all of those, yes,” replied Hallam, tensing the muscles in his arm and waiting for Cad to step close enough to spring his trap. “But none of those are your true weakness.”

Cad stopped and glared at Hallam, no longer appearing amused. “What then?” he snapped, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Your real weakness is me,” said Hallam. Then using all the strength in his new renegade power armor, he shoved the heavy crates at Cad and Alexis. Eyes widening, Cad thrust out his hands and ducked his head away from the falling metal boxes, but he and Alexis were struck hard. Hallam continued to push and more crates tumbled over, piling on top of the mercenaries, who were soon buried beneath several tons of metal.

“Hallam, get out of here!” Commander Rivas called over. One of the alien warbots shoved the commander against the wall, knocking her out cold. Then the machine’s vee-shaped eye fell on Hallam. Hallam’s instinct was to run and help Commander Rivas, but the warbot had already begun stomping in his direction. Still hesitating, he saw the crates move and jostle against each other, and he knew he had no choice but to go. He’d done what he could, and it wasn’t enough. Turning his back on the renegades, Hallam raced toward the auxiliary launch pod, utilizing the extra speed his suit afforded him to reach it in a matter of seconds. He met Dakota heading out of the cargo hold in the opposite direction, rifle in hand.

“Where the hell have you been?” Dakota yelled at him, but Hallam continued on into the ship, ushering Dakota inside with him.

“I was giving them a fighting chance, I hope,” replied Hallam, slamming the button to close the ramp. Then he looked at Dakota and her anger dissolved as she saw the sadness in his own eyes. “But I don’t think it will be enough.”

Dakota nodded, stowed the rifle, and ran into the cockpit. Dr. Rand was already in the auxiliary seat, working frantically on her palm computer, so engrossed in her work that she barely noticed Hallam’s arrival. The engines rose to a roar and Dakota punched out of the launch pod, giving Hallam barely enough time to drop into the second seat.

“The bridge computations are complete,” said Dr. Rand, uploading the information from her palm computer to the heavy fighter’s systems.

“Got it, spinning up the Shelby Drive now,” said Dakota, working almost as frantically as the scientist had been.

The navigation console chimed an alert and Hallam read it. “The Blackfire Squadron ships just detached from the base,” he said, cursing the apparent indestructability of Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black. “It won’t be long before they have a lock on us.”

“We’ll be long gone by then,” said Dakota confidently.

“Before you bridge, launch a missile at the base,” Dr. Rand cut in, causing Hallam and Dakota to look at her like she’d gone mad. “Use the launch program I just uploaded to your targeting system.”

Dakota glanced anxiously at Hallam, then met the scientist’s eyes. “Dr. Rand, we still have people on that base…” she began, but the scientist cut her off sharply.

“Trust me, Dakota,” said Dr. Rand, using Dakota’s given name for only the second time in Hallam’s memory. “Launch the missile.”

The whine of the Shelby Drive began to build and Dakota turned back to her controls, blowing out a heavy breath. “Arming missile now,” she said, working even faster than ever. “Launch program selected. Missile armed and ready.” She then took a deep breath, flexed her thumb, and pressed the trigger.

A missile shot out ahead, then turned in a steep arc back toward the base. Hallam pushed himself up and craned his neck to watch it streak through space toward the hangar bay doors. However, instead of slamming into the hangar and destroying it, the missile skimmed across the seam of the doors, drilling into the metal like a chisel. It finally detonated, but without the force that Hallam had expected. He was about to ask Dr. Rand what had happened, when the hangar bay door was blown out by the residual pressure in the bay. It was like Dr. Rand had used the missile as a can opener.

“How the hell did you do that?” said Hallam, watching in astonishment as the eight renegade fighters that Cad Rikkard had trapped in the bay blasted out into space. Even Cad Rikkard would know that eight renegade fighters were too much to handle, and Hallam saw the two advanced mercenary fighters turn and run.

Dr. Rand rested back in her chair as the whine of the Shelby Drive built to a crescendo. Then she looked at Hallam, smiling softly, and said, “I am a genius, Mr. Knight, remember?”

23

Cad Rikkard’s fist hammered into the metal cabinet for the fifth time, flattening the already crumpled and mangled metal into the bulkhead. However, the fire in his belly was not going out. Hallam Knight had evaded – and embarrassed him – yet again. The man is a curse! Cad thought as he drew his armored fist back for a sixth time, ready to smash his hand through the wall. Then a thump on the hull of his fighter caused him to stop short of landing another blow.

“Colonel Rikkard?” Cad heard a voice call from outside. “Is everything okay, sir?”

Cad let out a heavy sigh and rested his head against what remained of the metal locker in his ship’s ready room. He knew that he could smash his vessel to pieces and his rage would still not have abated. It was pointless, and weak, and he despised himself for allowing Hallam Knight to reduce him to such ignoble activities.

“Everything is fine, go away,” Cad growled back to the station’s deck chief.

After being forced to run from the renegade hideout, Cad and Alexis had travelled to a deep space CSF BridgeNet relay, which also doubled as a refueling station. The station was positioned between Fortuna and the Centrum, and Cad had selected it specifically for its proximity to the CSF’s sole remaining Randenite refinery. He hadn’t needed the renegade commander to tell him where Knight, Wulfrun, and Rand had gone. There was only one place left in the galaxy they had left to go. And while Cad no longer had any desire to stop the scientist from completing her objective of destroying the Centrum, he knew that such an endeavor would be fraught with risk. The Centrum was guarded not only with regular enforcers, but the last remaining Vanguard too. Aware of the threat posed by the renegades, Cad guessed that Dexter Stone may well have reinforced the station further in preparation for an attack. Yet Cad could not risk losing his chance at revenge. If Hallam Knight died at the hands of Stone or his enforcers, the uneasy swell in his gut and the image of the renegade’s face in his head would never go away. He couldn’t risk that. Knight was not only a stain on his reputation, but a disease that was eating away at him. Hallam Knight had to die by Cad Rikkard’s hand, or he would never be free.

Cad stormed out of his ready room, strode past the pockmarked, dented, and scratched form of an alien warbot, and marched down the rear ramp of his fighter. He was still wearing his power armor and his sword. This alone would have been enough to make the deck chief swiftly back away as Cad approached. However, the thud of the alien warbot’s feet on the deck sent the man’s face white with terror.

“Refuel the ship,” Cad ordered, stepping past the man and waiting beside Alexis Black’s fighter as the rear ramp lowered. “And feed the bot some power. I don’t know what; just let it have what it needs.”

The still speechless deck chief stared up the alien machine, while the warbot’s vee-shaped eye drilled into him. The machine then pushed past the deck chief and seemed to scan the docking garage. It found an industrial outlet and ripped the panel off the wall before thrusting its claw-like hand inside. The panel sparked and crackled and the lights in the docking garage dimmed as the warbot sucked in power from the station’s reactor.

“Forgetting something?” said Cad, realizing that the deck chief was still staring blankly at the machine, open mouthed.

The deck chief nodded and scurried off, hurriedly instructing his small team of CSF engineers to get to work on Cad’s vessel. Alexis then marched down the ramp of her fighter with warbot six close behind her. Cad could see that her eyes were still wild. Like himself, Alexis had yet to regain her composure and slip back into her normal persona.

“They’ll be heading to Centrum,” said Alexis, getting straight to the point. “We should waste no time and beat them to it. They can’t possibly destroy that station from the outside, not without nuclear weapons. They will have to be attempting an incursion into the main core.”

While Alexis had been speaking, warbot six had also made its way over to the industrial outlet. The other warbot unplugged and stepped aside as number six approached, allowing the other machine to go first as if in deference to it.

Cad scowled at the curious exchange between the two machines then returned his eyes to Alexis. “I agree, but we still need a way to get inside,” he replied, glancing back to the deck chief, who was doing a poor job of hiding the fact that he was eavesdropping.

“Surely our rank should do it?” said Alexis, also glowering at the deck chief, who quickly scurried away again.

“No one boards the Centrum without a permit from the CSF,” said Cad, stroking the bottom of his chin with his thumb. “And right now, Dexter Stone is the only one signing those orders. Once he hears from us, we know what he’ll do.”

Dakota snorted. “I’m surprised he hasn’t contacted us already,” she said, resting her hands on her hips. The rigid warrior’s stance was already beginning to relax, and at least some part of the other Alexis Black was creeping back to the fore.

“I’ve been blocking his calls, but he will soon enough,” replied Cad. “By now, he would have heard about what happened at the diamond mine. What he won’t know is whether the alien machine was successful. Once he learns that from us, he’ll double cross us again. Unfortunately, we still need him, for now.”

“As much as I enjoyed blowing her up, we should have taken Falken prisoner instead. She would have found us a way inside,” said Alexis. Then the mercenary’s eyes widened and she looked at Cad with excitement. “Wait, we do have access to the Centrum!”

Cad frowned. “How? I don’t remember Falken ever giving us the codes or any way to circumvent their defense grid and minefield?”

Alexis shook her head. “It wasn’t Falken. You transferred Damien Doyle’s own access codes from the tablet we forced him to unlock, remember?” she said, ushering Cad back inside his ship.

Both of them rushed into the cockpit and Alexis accessed the main computer, bringing up the archive they had transferred from Doyle’s tablet. Alexis then found the entries relating to the Centrum, which included Damien Doyle’s personal clearance codes and procedure.

Cad stroked the base of his chin. “Surely, they will have changed those now that’s he’s dead?”

“Who would be able to do that?” said Alexis, shrugging. “Who would even know these codes existed? I’m willing to bet they will work. And by the time anyone realizes what’s going on, we’ll already be on the Centrum.”

Cad grunted, still rubbing his chin. “Then we should move fast and get to the Centrum now.”

Alexis pressed her hands to her hips again. Her more playful side was more dominant now. “I think that’s what I said a couple of minutes ago?”

Cad allowed himself to smile. He didn’t want to feel any kind of joy, but Alexis could always inspire it in him. She was the only one that ever could.

Cad turned, noticing that the deck chief was standing just outside the ship, pretending to grease the hinges of the rear ramp. “Then we should go, just as soon as this lazy deck chief fuels our ships,” he said, intentionally loud enough for the deck chief to hear. The man quickly disappeared again.

Cad’s watch then bleeped an incoming call. He checked the screen and grunted. “It’s Stone,” he said, sounding unsurprised. “I’ll take it on the deck, so that the snooping engineer really gets his money’s worth for listening in.”

Cad and Alexis stepped down the ramp to the sound of the deck chief’s boots scampering away. Cad then activated the call, projecting a holo image of Dexter Stone into the middle of the docking garage. The appearance of the de-facto CSF chief did the trick of forcing all of the workers on the deck to look busy, even if they weren’t actually doing anything productive.

“Where the hell have you been?” snarled Dexter Stone, shaking his fist at Cad. “The Dalrosa diamond mine was a massacre. There are reports of dozens dead, and that some of my warbots were destroyed. And where is Zelina Skars? Explain yourself!”

Cad had sucked in a deep breath while Dexter Stone ranted. Now that the obnoxious man was silent, he allowed himself to let it out slowly. “I’m sorry to say that your machines aren’t exactly good at following orders,” said Cad. Then he shrugged, “At least not your orders anyway.”

“Did the machines capture her or not?” Stone barked.

“Yes, at least for a time,” replied Cad. “Before it crushed her head like a watermelon.”

Stone cursed then appeared to hammer his fist onto a desk or some other surface that the holo camera wasn’t showing. “And where have you been? Where is Dr. Rand? We had a deal!”

“I don’t give a damn about your deal, Stone,” Cad hit back. “I only want Knight and Wulfrun. Rand can blow your precious Centrum to hell for all I care. You’re out of options, I’m afraid, Commandant.”

Stone straightened up, fists still clenched. “Always so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” he said, no longer even attempting to disguise his contempt. “The mighty Cad Rikkard of the Blackfire Squadron. But you don’t know everything.”

“What don’t I know, Commandant?” said Cad, inviting the general to advance to the next stage of his plan so that he could enjoy seeing the man’s lined face when it failed.

“Enough talk,” Stone hit back, apparently conscious that he’d already given too much away. “Where are my machines? I want them returned to me. Then you will go back into a cell.”

“Your machines, or at least the two that survived, are here with me,” replied Cad, nodding to Alexis. She whistled the get the attention of the alien warbots, and they came marching over, shaking the deck with each stride. “And you already cleared me of any wrongdoings, if you remember?”

Stone snorted a derisory laugh. “I can create new charges just as easily as I cleared the old ones,” he said, pressing his hands to the small of his back and puffing out his barrel chest. “You are mine to do with as I please.”

The alien warbots then marched up behind Cad and stood to attention, their eyes watching the holo image with interest. Cad adjusted the settings on his holo emitter so that Stone could also see the machines.

“There you go, Commandant, all safe and sound,” said Cad, eager to see what Stone’s next move would be.

The corner of Stone’s mouth turned up as the machines appeared to him. “Now we’ll see how cocky you are while being strangled by one of my alien warbots,” the commandant said, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “Command override. Recognize Stone, one bravo, two bravo, three. Apprehend Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black and await further instructions.”

Stone then watched and waited, wearing a smug smile on his face that did not suit the normally surly-looking CSF leader. However, neither warbot responded to the command, and the commandant’s face fell.

“Command override, Stone one bravo, two bravo, three!” Stone barked. “Apprehend the mercenaries right in front of you, damn it!”

Cad glanced back at one of the warbots, whose vee-shaped eye met his gaze before staring back at the holo of Dexter Stone.

“Oh dear, it looks like you’ve lost control of your little robot army,” mocked Cad, enjoying seeing Stone squirm and seethe with rage. The commandant opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. “Now, if you don’t mind, I have matters to attend to,” Cad added to the open-mouthed holo of Dexter Stone. “And I’d advise against trying to stop me or fabricating any new criminal charges. I control your warbots now, and I can easily unleash them, and any others you still have, into what remains of your organization.”

“You won’t get away with this!” Stone barked back, causing Cad to shake his head in dismay. As comebacks went, Stone had regressed to playground levels of creativity.

“I already have,” replied Cad. Then he rested a finger over the screen of his watch, ready to end the call. “Good luck finding a new job when the Centrum is destroyed and you’re cut off and stranded on whatever world you end up on.” Cad then smiled, which only fueled Stone’s open-mouthed fury. “If I were you, I’d choose the planet whose population is least likely to want to skin you alive. Though as the galaxy’s most hated man, it won’t be long before you’re strung up, no matter where you run to and hide.” Cad then ended the call before Stone could growl a reply.

Alexis whooped and clapped then draped herself over Cad’s shoulder. “Did you enjoy the show?” she then said to the deck chief, who had frozen with a multi-tool in hand, the device hovering uselessly in mid-air. The multi-tool the fell out of the CSF engineer’s hand, but he didn’t try to pick it up or even move at all. It was like he’d been flash-frozen in a vat of liquid nitrogen.

Cad drew his Black Prince sword and scooped up the multi-tool using the flat of the blade, propelling it into the air in front of the deck chief. Then with a single swift swing of the sword, he sliced the tool in half. The two ends clattered on the deck, waking the man from his catatonic state like a slap in the face.

“We leave in five minutes,” said Cad, aiming the tip of the sword at the deck chief’s chest. Then he pointed to the multi-tool. “If our ships are not ready by then, I will do the same to your left hand, followed by your right. Do you understand?”

The deck chief nodded and hurried away, tripping over a fuel line as he tried to distance himself from Cad as quickly as possible. Then the chief and the other CSF engineers got to work, and this time, not a single one of them attempted to listen in to what Cad and Alexis were saying.

24

No matter how many times Hallam had seen the Centrum, the sheer brilliance of the pivotal refinery, located deep in the Darkspace, had never ceased to amaze and awe him. It wasn’t its size that made the Centrum extraordinary – though it rivalled any of the grandest space stations ever constructed – it was its uniquely self-sufficient design that made it special. It was positioned close to an icy asteroid field that provided an abundant supply of water. Although with a near one-hundred percent efficient recycling system, it only ever needed to replace water it supplied to visiting ships. The Centrum was also a microcosm of the bridge worlds. It grew its own food in a hydroponics lab and engineered its own proteins too, such as the fake meat hotdogs that Dakota loved. It contained sophisticated medical, engineering, and computer labs, and had the equipment necessary to mine resources from the asteroid field. And as the sole Randenite refinery left in the galaxy, it had a limitless supply of energy. Left untouched, the Centrum could maintain human life for centuries, without any outside intervention.

Technical marvels aside, the Centrum was also a fortress. As the galaxy’s most important asset, the Consortium had spared no expense protecting it from attack, either by pirates or – in particular – the Darkspace Renegades. It was protected by a minefield that was impossible to navigate, even by the best pilot, and dozens of sentry turrets. Without clearance, attempting to reach the Centrum was suicide. Yet Dr. Rand had found a weakness in the station’s defenses. All of its weapons and mines were useless once you were inside the defensive perimeter. The problem was that there was only one way to reach this safe zone, without running the gauntlet through thousands of mines. The only way in was to create a bridge and ride the sub-dimension of space straight up to the Centrum’s front door.

In order to achieve this, Dr. Rand had upgraded their heavy fighter with alien components from the original bridging technology. Hallam, Dakota and Dr. Rand had taken these from a spacecraft on the alien homeworld itself – the planet that was the source of all Dr. Rand’s scientific discoveries. Her own Shelby Drive, by the scientist’s admission, was a “hack job.” It lacked the precision required for the task they were about to undertake. However, as they waited in the Darkspace, far beyond the Centrum’s scanner range, the mission had become even more complicated than in their original plans. And it was also far more fraught with danger.

“So I guess the original mission plan has gone out of the airlock,” said Hallam, swiveling his chair from side to side. “We don’t have a renegade assault team on board and we can’t count on the three-oh-three to bridge in and create a diversion when we need to leave again. Hell, we don’t even know where they are.”

Dr. Rand was working on her palm computer, but paused briefly and raised her eyes over the top of the screen. “The three-oh-three are still out there, we know that at least,” the scientist replied, though her answer failed to address any of Hallam’s more salient points about their predicament.

Dakota had also picked up on this, and piled in to push Dr. Rand for some answers. “So, now that we’re here, how are we supposed to get onto the Centrum?” she asked as Dr. Rand returned her gaze to her screen. “We were going to breach one of the secondary docking garages, but without an assault squad, the three of us wouldn’t last ten seconds.”

“I do not have a plan for this scenario,” Dr. Rand replied, placing the palm computer on her lap. She sounded both exasperated and irritated by the questions from Dakota and Hallam. “I can only offer a suggestion for a way to proceed. I cannot guarantee its success, any more than I could guarantee the success of the original mission.”

Hallam stopped swiveling in his chair and straightened up. Dr. Rand had a way of making him conduct himself more properly, like how a mother’s sudden firmness can immediately snap her children into a more compliant mood.

“So you do have a plan?” Hallam asked. He hoped that the genius scientist was about to say “yes,” because for the entire journey through bridge space to their present location, he’d drawn a blank on how to proceed. Hallam couldn’t fathom how it was possible for two renegades and a sixty-something scientist armed with a palm computer to infiltrate the galaxy’s most secure installation.

“I do have a plan,” said Dr. Rand plainly. She then returned to her palm computer and began tapping on the screen again.

Hallam waited for Dr. Rand to elaborate, exchanging anxious and confused looks with Dakota, before he couldn’t bear the suspense any longer. “Doc, you can’t just leave it at ‘I do have a plan.’ What is the damn plan!” cried Hallam. At times, Dr. Rand’s succinctness was amusing – this was not one of those times.

Dr. Rand raised her eyes over the top of the screen and shot Hallam her “disappointed teacher” look. “If you’ll just have a little patience, Mr. Knight, I will show you my proposal,” she said huffily. “I cannot guarantee that you will like it, however.”

Dr. Rand finished tapping on the screen of her palm computer and a holo image of the Centrum appeared in the cockpit in front of them. The scientist tapped the screen once more and the image zoomed in toward the very base of the massive space installation.

“As Miss Wulfrun just highlighted, the original plan involved bridging inside the security perimeter and breaching one of the secondary docking garages,” Dr. Rand began. Hallam and Dakota leaned in to the image, eager to hear the genius scientist’s revised strategy, which she’d evidently come up with in the last hour. “Since we no longer have a strike force, I propose that we enter here.” Dr. Rand pointed to what appeared to be a small docking hatch on the base of the station. “It is a disused maintenance hatch that provides access into the main computer cooling systems,” the scientist continued.

Hallam raised his eyebrows. It looked like a tempting target. “How did you find out about this hatch?” Hallam asked, genuinely curious to know how the scientist knew about it.

“Few people alive know the workings of the Centrum as I do,” Dr. Rand replied. “After all, I was heavily involved in its design.”

Hallam nodded. He often had to remind himself that Dr. Rand was a key figure in the Consortium, prior to her exile and reappearance as the head of the Darkspace Renegades.

“The enforcers will be concentrated around the docking garages and other key access points to the refinery core,” Dr. Rand continued. “As it is so deep inside the Centrum, the computer core will be relatively undefended. Though once our presence is detected, it will not take long for them to mobilize.”

Hallam rubbed his face, trying to work out why Dr. Rand had considered this an option he might not like. So far, it seemed like an entirely reasonable plan. “Okay, so what’s the catch, Doc?” said Hallam, giving up on trying to guess why they hadn’t planned to enter in that location from the start.

“Yes, well, there is a small problem,” Dr. Rand replied. Hallam braced himself for the inevitable near impossible feat the scientist’s plan would involve. “While our original strategy involved an element of surprise, it did not require stealth. In order for this new plan to succeed, we must remain undetected, at least until we are inside.”

“Go on…” said Hallam. He could feel his muscles tensing up, like he was preparing to eat a solid punch from Dakota in the sparring ring.

“The base of the Centrum is a black spot,” Dr. Rand continued, scowling at Hallam for interrupting her. “But to reach it without triggering any of the sensors, we must bridge to within ten meters of this point.” Dr. Rand pointed to a tiny section of the Centrum on the holo, then sat back awaiting Hallam and Dakota’s response.

“Wait, did you say ten meters?” asked Dakota. Dr. Rand merely nodded in reply.

Dakota and Hallam looked at each other, aghast. What the scientist had proposed was impossible.

“Doc, we’re lucky if we manage to drop out of bridge space within a kilometer of our target bridge coordinates,” said Hallam, dry mouthed. “Entering normal space with a ten-meter margin of error would be like hitting a hole in one with your eyes closed!”

Dr. Rand frowned. “Is that a boxing reference, Mr. Knight?”

“Baseball, right?” said Dakota.

“It’s golf!” Hallam cried, throwing his hands into the air. “But the damn sport doesn’t matter. What I’m saying is that it’s impossible.”

Dr. Rand shrugged. “Challenging, yes. Impossible, no. With the upgrades to the Shelby Drive in this vessel, and my navigation program, I believe we can make it.”

Hallam blew out a heavy sigh. “Did you manage to assess the accuracy of the upgraded bridge drive during the shakedown tests?” he asked, hoping that Dr. Rand had some experience on which to base her assumption.

“Yes, though I will not lie, Mr. Knight, this is uncharted territory,” Dr. Rand replied, quick to caveat her answer. “However, I do not believe we have a choice.”

Hallam was about to argue that point, but then realized the scientist was right. Their only other option was to turn tail and give up, which was no option at all. He rubbed his face again and flopped back in his seat. “Okay, so assuming we get inside, then what?” he asked, resigning himself to the new strategy.

The scientist tapped on her palm computer again, and the holo image zoomed in to show a cross-section of the Centrum’s lower levels. “Using some of the new techniques I acquired from the late hacker, Falken, I will infiltrate the Centrum’s main computer core,” said Dr. Rand as the holo image stabilized. “The refinery section has numerous independent computer systems, which are not networked to the rest of the station for security reasons. Therefore, I cannot simply shut down the Centrum with the press of a button. However, from the main computer core, I am still able to misdirect the enforcer squads by feeding false orders into the system. I can also disable security cameras and open the doors you need to pass through to reach the refinery core.”

Hallam chewed the inside of his mouth as Dr. Rand explained her new idea. He liked the second part much more than the first, but there were still a lot of unknowns. Glancing across to Dakota to gauge her reaction, Hallam saw that her expression was a mirror of his own feelings. It was a look of resigned acceptance. In the end, it was do or die. Turning back to Dr. Rand, Hallam said. “Okay, Doc, let’s do it.”

Hallam and Dakota turned their seats back toward the Centrum, which appeared as a mere speck of light no brighter than a distant star. Hallam saw the computer update with the new bridging program, uploaded from Dr. Rand’s palm computer and blew out another heavy sigh. Their new course would not only require them to pass through thousands of miles of empty space. They would also need to pass through a dense asteroid field, and through a dense minefield dotted with dozens of sentry turrets, each of which could pulverize their heavy fighter with a single salvo. Then, if they managed this near impossible feat, they would have to re-emerge into normal space within ten meters of a specific section of the Centrum. Hallam had spoken of “rolling the cosmic dice” before. Luck had always played a part in every aspect of their renegade insurgence, but this time, it felt like they really were betting against the odds. Hallam’s eyes fell on the ragged old woolen teddy bear sitting in the middle of the flight deck and huffed a laugh. Reaching over to it, he patted Bob the bear on the head and said, “Wish us luck, Bob.”

Dakota smiled then reached over and placed her hand on top of Hallam’s, which was still resting on the bear’s little head. “Wish us luck, Bob,” she said, echoing Hallam’s words.

Then both Hallam and Dakota glanced back to Dr. Rand with hopeful eyes. However, the scientist merely stared back at them, as if they were expecting her to perform some diabolical and arcane act of voodoo.

“The probability of our success will not be determined by an inanimate woolen toy,” Dr. Rand said snootily.

“Come on, Doc,” said Hallam, smiling at the scientist.

“No, I shall not,” Dr. Rand replied defiantly.

“It’s bad luck if you don’t…” Dakota chimed in, also smiling at the scientist.

Dr. Rand rolled her eyes and unclipped her harness, then stood between Hallam and Dakota. She tentatively reached her hand out toward the bear, as if she were being asked to shove her arm inside a hornet’s nest. Eventually, she rested her hand on top of Dakota’s.

“Say the words, Doc,” said Hallam, enjoying the moment more than he probably should have been.

Dr. Rand scowled then hurriedly muttered, “Wish us luck, Bob.” She then swiftly returned to her seat and fastened her harness, though Hallam could detect a hint of crimson flushing her cheeks.

Hallam and Dakota then took each other’s hands and they shook in solidarity. Neither spoke. There was nothing more to say.

“Bridging in ten,” said Dakota, returning her hands to the controls. The whine of the Shelby Drive began to rise, though the tone and pulse of the unique engine was unlike anything Hallam had experienced before. “Coordinates locked in. Drive systems at full power…” Dakota added, her whole body tensing up. “Five seconds…” she continued, pressing herself back into her seat and gritting her teeth.

The beat of the drive built to a crescendo and the view outside was swallowed by a swirling vortex of red light as they entered bridge space. Mere seconds later, they exited the strange sub-dimension and alarms began to wail out in the cockpit. Dakota grabbed the control column as the hulking mass of the Centrum filled the view outside. She wrestled with the controls, firing their thrusters in a desperate effort to stabilize their position relative to the station. Like the journey through bridge space, her fight with the controls lasted mere seconds, but to Hallam, it felt like an eternity. Then the alarms fell silent and the ship became still. Hallam exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath since the moment of the countdown, and sucked in another gulp of air. Dakota still appeared to be shell-shocked by the experience, so Hallam checked the navigation systems himself, which were still in the process of updating. The journey had been faster than the fighter’s computer systems could handle. Finally, the position updated and Hallam flopped back in his seat, blowing out another heavy sigh.

“It worked,” Hallam said, closing his eyes and forcing his breathing into a normal rhythm. “We’re holding position beneath the Centrum.”

“How close did we get?” asked Dakota, who had removed her hands from the controls, seemingly fearful of accidentally adjusting their position.

“Do you really want to know?” asked Hallam.

“Well, now I don’t!” Dakota hit back, laughing nervously.

“Five meters,” said Dr. Rand. Hallam and Dakota turned to see the scientist already working on her palm computer. She appeared entirely unflustered by the experience. “Four point eight three meters, to be precise,” she then corrected herself.

Hallam and Dakota just looked at the scientist, open mouthed, until she noticed their gaping stares, and frowned. “Well, what are you two waiting for?” Dr. Rand said, once again sounding like a disappointed teacher. “Form a seal around the hatch and let’s get on with this, shall we?”

25

Dakota had undertaken the docking maneuver with painstaking care and attentiveness. Even so, the moments leading up to the fighter’s umbilical making contact with the Centrum’s hull had been the most nerve-racking of Hallam’s life. Finally, however, a pressure-seal had been formed without raising any alarms.

Cutting beams were now slicing through the seals holding the maintenance hatch in place. Then they would be ready for their improvised incursion into the galaxy’s sole remaining Randenite refinery. It was another tense wait, and Hallam and Dakota had filled the time by equipping themselves with the tools and weapons they would need to complete their daring assault. Both wore pistols on their hips and had compact submachine guns strapped across their chests. In addition to the weapons, Hallam had the Shelby field inverter device strapped to the small of his back in a fabric pouch.

“Here, you should probably take one of these too,” said Dakota, tossing a baseball bat to Hallam.

Hallam caught the bat then frowned at it. “Where did you get this?” he asked, feeling the weight of the bat in his hand. However, thanks to his power armor, it was like he was holding a piece of bamboo cane.

“That little exercise in the hangar back on the hideout made me realize we should probably prepare for some close quarters encounters too,” replied Dakota, grabbing a similar bat from the storage rack. “Besides, if the objective is stealth, we should probably try to avoid shooting the place up, at least until we have to.”

Hallam nodded. It was a good idea, though something told him that it wouldn’t be all that long until the shooting started. Suddenly, the cutting beams shut off and the absence of sound sent a chill racing down Hallam’s spine. It was like the calm before a storm. Dr. Rand pulled on a jacket and zipped it up before equipping an earpiece. Hallam then grabbed hold of the handle on the maintenance hatch and prepared to pull it. He felt like he should ask if everyone was ready, but it seemed pointless. Everything they had done for last weeks and months had led them to this moment. If they weren’t ready now, they never would be.

Pulling on the handle, Hallam’s augmented strength allowed him to remove the severed hatch easily. A blast of icy air washed through the ship and Hallam shivered again, though this time from the chill. Peering through the opening, he could see thick frost on the ladder leading inside the Centrum.

“Is this right, Doc?” said Hallam, glancing back at the scientist. It was then he noticed she had also pulled on a pair of gloves and a hat.

“Computer cores are generally very cold, Mr. Knight,” she said while adjusting all of the zips to make sure her coat was done up as tightly as possible. “It will get warmer once we are inside the computer room.”

Sliding the bat between his rifle and armor as a temporary place to stow it, Hallam turned back to the icy tunnel. The cold air was already stinging his face. Blowing out a frosty breath, he then grabbed the rungs of the ladder and began to ascend. Thanks to his armor, the cold didn’t burn his hands, though it still felt like he was inside an industrial freezer. Passing other service tunnels and long stretches of cooling conduits, Hallam eventually reached another hatch. He turned the wheel, threw it open, and climbed inside a room filled with blinking computer terminals. His face was now completely numb from the cold. As the others entered the computer core, he saw that Dakota was feeling the effects of the sub-zero temperatures just as severally as he was, and Dr. Rand even more so. Hallam closed the hatch and Dr. Rand pulled off her gloves before unzipping a pocket in her jacket and removing a small device. Teeth chattering and hands shaking from the cold, Dr. Rand offered the object to Hallam.

“Place this anywhere on the core,” she said, her trembling hands almost dropping the device before passing it to Hallam. She then rushed to the door that led inside the computer room and removed her palm computer.

Hallam moved up the array of blinking machines and raised his arm to attach the device. However, his movements were slow, and he could feel his armor resisting him.

“Doc, I think I’m seizing up here,” said Hallam, finally managing to attach the device.

“Me too,” said Dakota, trying to walk over to the door but finding her movements to be laborious and stilted.

Dr. Rand continued to work on the computer, but her shaking fingers kept making mistakes.

“Doc, hurry…” said Hallam, finally making his way over to the scientist, though each step took longer than the last.

“I… am… trying…” replied Dr. Rand, but her hands were shuddering so much that she dropped the palm computer. Unexpectedly, the scientist cursed. More than any other possible indicator of danger, Hallam knew that Dr. Rand swearing meant they were in big trouble.

“Dak, get the doc away from the door,” Hallam said, forcing his armor to take several paces back.

“What are you going to do, Hal?” said Dakota, dragging the shivering scientist out of the way.

Hallam flexed and worked all of his joints, trying to loosen them up as much as possible. “I think the idea of stealth is already out of the window, Dak,” Hallam replied. Then before Dakota or Dr. Rand could ask what he meant, Hallam charged at the door and crashed through it like a wrecking ball. Alarms instantly wailed as Hallam tumbled into the computer operations room. He lay on his back and found himself staring up a man wearing a plain grey shirt and navy-blue tie. The man was holding a palm computer in his hand and was staring at Hallam open-mouthed.

“Hi,” Hallam said to the speechless office worker before swiftly kicking the man between the legs.

Dakota and Dr. Rand tumbled through the door moments later. Shivering violently, the scientist managed to drag her palm computer through the gap before Dakota pressed the door back into place. Despite the fact that Hallam had smashed it off its hinges, the door slotted in like a piece of a jigsaw puzzle. Dakota then saw the man on the deck, groaning and clutching his hands between his legs. She scowled at the man for a moment then scowled at Hallam.

“I’m just following your advice, Dak,” said Hallam, getting to his feet. Already his mechanical joints were feeling looser.

The computer room worker managed to get to his knees and suck in enough breath to speak. He looked ready to yell at them, and Hallam braced himself for the inevitable slew of questions and demands. He expected these to go along the lines of “who are you?” and “what are you doing here?” and, quite possibly, “why did you kick me in the balls?” However, the man’s eyes then fell on Dr. Rand and his expression changed from one of pain and confusion to one of star-struck astonishment.

“Dr. Rand?” the man said, struggling to get to his feet. “Dr. Shelby Rand?”

Dr. Rand’s eyes widened and she nodded in reply, likely because her teeth were still chattering too much to speak.

The man then looked at Hallam and Dakota, scanning them from head to toe and spotting the weapons slung to their armor. “You’re the renegades,” he said, though it wasn’t a question – the man sounded sure of himself. “You’re here to destroy the Centrum, just like Falken said.”

Hallam stepped forward and offered his hand. Initially, the man flinched, but then accepted it. “I’m Hallam,” he said before nodding toward Dakota. “That’s Dakota and you already know the doc,” he continued. “And you’re right, we’re here to take this place down, so I’m sorry to say you’ll soon be out of a job.”

“I don’t care about this job. What use is a job when all the bridge worlds are gone?” the man said, releasing Hallam’s hand and moving up to Dr. Rand. “Let me help you, Dr. Rand. I’ve followed everything you’ve been doing on the dark BridgeNet. I’ve seen the videos and the data. I know the Consortium is hiding things. I can help.”

“What’s your name?” said Dr. Rand, still rubbing her shoulders to get warm.

“Felix, I’m Felix Hanson,” the man said. “I’m one of the night duty managers down here. It’s just me at the moment. The top bosses moved all nonessential personnel off the Centrum a few days ago. Something about an imminent security risk.”

Hallam huffed a laugh. “Well, here we are.”

Dr. Rand pointed to the flashing alarm light on the wall. “Are you able to shut that off, Mr. Hanson?” she asked politely.

Felix Hanson nodded and hurried over to one of the consoles. Seconds later, the alarm stopped. “They’ll still send a couple of enforcers down here to check on the alarm,” Felix said, turning back to Dr. Rand. “And the main operations center will have registered that the seal around the computer core was breached.”

Dr. Rand moved over to the console beside Felix, placing an encouraging hand on his back. “Don’t worry about that,” she said, setting her palm computer down on the console. “But if you really want to help, I need you to give me access to the computer and work with me to ensure that Hallam and Dakota make it to the refinery core. Can you do that?”

Felix nodded enthusiastically. “Anything you need, Dr. Rand.”

Through the glass windows of the open plan room, Hallam could see four enforcers moving through the corridor toward them. Hallam slid the baseball bat out from inside his rifle sling and held it ready, and Dakota did the same.

Dr. Rand glanced back at Hallam and Dakota, meeting each of their eyes in turn. “I will guide you from down here,” she said, sliding into one of the operator chairs. “I wish you good luck.”

Hallam nodded, sucked in a lungful of the cool, recycled air in the computer room, then hurried out of the door toward the advancing enforcers. Keeping low so that they were partially obscured by the wall, Hallam tried to second guess the enforcers’ actions, not knowing which route they’d take. He cut across into another unoccupied room in an effort to head them off, then cursed as the enforcers all switched direction, seemingly with the same idea. The door to the room flung open and the four enforcers marched inside. Then their thick-soled boots screeched to a stop. The mouth of the lead enforcer opened, but as with Felix Hanson before him, Hallam had no intention of giving the enforcer an opportunity to speak. Rushing forward, Hallam swung the bat at the enforcer’s leg, forgetting his augmented strength. The crunch of cartilage and snap of bone was preceded by a monstrous howl of pain as the enforcer went down, but Hallam pressed on. The enforcers behind the felled man opened fire, but the shots were frenzied and wild. Hallam smashed the rifle from the grasp of the next enforcer then kicked the man in the chest. The power of the blow sent him sailing through the glass window of the room and into the corridor outside. At the same time, Dakota had incapacitated the other two enforcers with the same inadvertent brutality, due to the power of their armor. Moments later they were staring down at the bodies of the enforcers. The room was silent once more, save for the sound of Hallam’s breath and the occasional chink of glass falling from the shattered window frames. Alarms rang out in the corridor, and Hallam knew the fight was on.

“I think that ends the stealth part of this mission, don’t you?” said Dakota, tossing the baseball bat to the floor and unslinging her submachine gun.

Hallam also discarded the bat and met Dakota’s eyes. “No more sneaking around in the shadows,” he said, readying his rifle. “It’s time that everyone knew the Darkspace Renegades are coming, and that this time, no one will stop us.”

26

Cad Rikkard kept a watchful eye on the navigation console as he approached the Centrum. The access codes stolen from Damien Doyle’s computer had succeeded in unlocking a route through the Centrum’s minefield. However, he wasn’t taking anything for granted. The Centrum’s docking controller had already tried to contact Cad’s ship five times, clearly confused as to how his vessel was using the deceased magnate’s personal access codes. However, so far, they had not attempted to stop him.

“We’ll be through the minefield in sixty seconds,” said Alexis over their private comm channel. “You’ll still need to radio the controller to open the bay doors. How’s your Doyle impression today?”

Cad snorted. “I’m not going to pretend to be that asshole,” he said, despising the idea of putting on a mock “Damien Doyle” accent. “They’ll let us in and figure it out from there. Not that they’ll have much choice, because I can override the doors anyway. Doyle liked to do as he pleased, and now so can we.”

Cad’s ship cleared the minefield and he slowed to a stop in front of Docking Garage A, Damien Doyle’s little-used private hangar. Cad had been to the Centrum more times that he could count, but he’d never set foot inside Doyle’s personal dock. He idly wondered how much of it would be left intact once he had fought his way inside the Centrum’s cavernous internal spaces.

“Centrum this is Consortium One, carrying Damien Doyle. Request access to docking garage alpha,” said Cad over an open channel to the Centrum.

“Smooth,” said Alexis in his other ear. “I bet they don’t buy it.”

“Consortium One, this is Centrum control. Say again who you are carrying on-board?” came the reply from the clearly confused docking controller.

“You heard me the first time,” replied Cad haughtily. “And you’ve verified our codes. Now open the doors. Mr. Doyle does not like to be kept waiting.”

The comm channel returned static for a couple of seconds before the controller replied, “Erm, yes, of course,” the man said, still sounding deeply unsure of himself. “Apologies, Consortium One. Access granted to garage alpha. We’ll have the usual entourage meet you once you’ve docked. Centrum Control out.”

Alexis laughed. “Well, they’re dumber than I thought.”

Cad grunted. “They’re not dumb, they’re afraid. Doyle is like a deity. It stands to reason they’d accept him coming back from the dead.” Cad’s console bleeped and he saw that the outer bay doors were opening.

“It won’t take them long to figure out we’re not who we say we are,” said Alexis, following Cad in to the docking garage.

“They’ll send a security team, no doubt. But half of them will be dead before they realize who we are,” said Cad, dropping his fighter onto the conveyer. The outer doors closed and the bay pressurized before the inner doors unlocked and the mercenary ships were moved inside. A group of executives in smart, expensive-looking suits were already hurrying into the hangar, along with a squad of six enforcers. They were the regular heavies that the Centrum employed, Cad realized, not the better equipped and trained Vanguard Enforcers that Stone retained.

The docking conveyer stopped and the entourage formed up in front of the fighters, as if they were preparing to greet royalty. Cad shut down his engines and lowered the rear ramp, then grabbed his Black Prince sword from the stow at his side. Moving through to the rear of the ship, he took a sidearm from the rack and holstered it before equipping a smart assault rifle.

“Shall we send in the bots or take these out ourselves?” said Alexis, her voice now coming through from a speaker inside Cad’s power armor.

“We’ll take these ones ourselves,” said Cad, loading the rifle. “Those machines will only make a damn mess of the place.”

“Got it,” said Alexis, the tone of her voice already hardening as she prepared to fight. Over their comm channel, Cad then heard the familiar sound of magazines being inserted into her Five-Seven-Seven pistols.

“Wait here,” said Cad, turning to the warbot that was standing dutifully in the cargo hold of his ship. The machine’s eye sharpened and it warbled a response, which Cad took to be a yes. Then he stepped down the rear ramp and strode out toward the entourage that had been sent to meet the non-existent former leader of the Consortium.

“What is the meaning of this?” said one of the suited men, stepping forward. The executive was angry and ill-mannered and Cad immediately took a dislike to him. “Where is Mr. Doyle?”

“You’ll see him soon enough. In hell,” replied Cad, raising his rifle and firing from the hip. The rattle of his weapon mixed with the crack of Alexis’ pistols, and within a matter of seconds, the deck was strewn with the bodies of the enforcers and the suited executives. Cad and Alexis both reloaded and continued toward the door when the heavy thump of metal on metal filtered in from the corridor outside.

“Wait…” said Cad, holding up a hand to Alexis. They both held their positions in the garage as the noise grew louder. Then the familiar vee-shaped eye of an alien warbot marched inside the garage, followed by a second alien machine. Each of the warbots stood to the side of the door, then the thump of metal feet was replaced by the thud of boots. Four Vanguard Enforcers rushed inside, crouching in front of the warbots and aiming rifles at Cad and Alexis. Then one final set of footsteps approached, slower and more measured than the hurried pace of the enforcers, and Dexter Stone appeared in the doorway.

“You should have quit while you were ahead,” snarled Stone, stepping inside the garage and standing between the two warbots. “You managed to stop my warbots from killing you, and for that, I applaud your ingenuity.” The commandant slow-clapped sarcastically as he said this. Then his expression twisted from mock admiration to one of disdain. “But to come here, of all places?” He shook his head and wagged his finger at Cad. “This is the end of the road for you, my friend. Any last words?”

Cad allowed a flicker of a smile to curl his lips. “I don’t have any words,” he said, casting a glance across to Alexis. “But I do have a response.”

Alexis then pressed her finger and thumb inside her mouth and blew out a shrill whistle. Stone’s eyes narrowed as more heavy thuds rumbled through the docking garage. Seconds later, the alien warbots that had been waiting inside the mercenary fighters stomped inside the garage and stood next to Cad and Alexis.

“And I think you’ll find that they’re not your warbots,” said Cad, the curl of his lips rising higher. “They’re mine.” The four alien machines stepped out, filling the space between Cad and Alexis, and Stone’s Vanguard Enforcers.

“Kill them!” Stone barked and the Vanguard Enforcers opened fire.

Cad and Alexis ducked in behind the alien machines, using them as cover, and fell back to their fighters as the warbots advanced. The two warbots that Dexter Stone had arrived with then swung their long arms at the Vanguard Enforcers, sweeping them across the deck like fallen skittles.

“What are you doing? Kill them!” Stone barked at the alien warbots. “The mercenaries and the other two machines, not my own men, you fools!”

The alien machines ignored Stone’s protests and joined the other two warbots in the center of the hangar. The warbot that Alexis had called “number six” then spoke in its indecipherable language of squawks and warbles as Stone continued to yell at them. All four then reformed as a group and turned to face Dexter Stone.

“Destroy them!” Stone barked at the squad of Vanguard Enforcers, who were getting back to their feet. “All of them! Destroy them now!” he yelled pointing to the warbots. Then the commandant turned and ran.

Cad and Alexis remained in cover as the crackle of rifle fire erupted into the docking garage, all of it directed at the four alien warbots. The machines were hit hard, but they pushed on toward the Vanguard, hammering and slashing at two of the enforcers with their claws. The rattle of gunfire changed to the boom of grenades as the two remaining Vanguard unleashed a volley of explosives into the throng of machines. Grenade after grenade detonated and the first two machines finally succumbed to the onslaught. The remaining warbots scooped up the disintegrated remains of their fallen comrades and hurled them at the enforcers. One man fell as the mass of metal projectiles hit him head on. The surviving Vanguard then retreated until his back was pressed against the wall and his launcher clicked empty. The enforcer switched to rifle fire, but the man’s finger had barely reached the trigger before a metal claw was thrust through his chest.

Cad and Alexis moved out from behind their ships, wafting smoke from their eyes. Alarms were sounding all around the docking garage and Cad saw more enforcers rushing along the corridor outside, but curiously, none entered the hangar.

“This is code red security alert. All enforcers to the refinery core immediately,” an announcement blared out over a PA system. “Repeat, code red alert. All enforcers to the Randenite core. Full security lockdown is in effect.”

Cad and Alexis stopped a few meters from the Vanguard Enforcer that was still impaled against the wall of the garage, his life slowly leaking from his body.

“The alert must be for Knight and Wulfrun,” said Cad, watching the dying man with morbid interest.

“I know the way,” said Alexis. Her eyes were cold and hard. “Doyle’s codes will unlock the security doors. Nothing will stop us this time.”

Cad grunted. “This ends today, one way or another.” Cad then turned toward the door and tapped the warbot nearest to him on the shoulder. “You two, come with me,” he ordered, setting off across the deck. However, the machine merely looked at him, its eye bent sharply. “Come with me,” Cad repeated, but again the machine did not move.

“Warbots, follow me,” Alexis said, scowling at the machines. The alien warbot that had impaled the Vanguard pulled its blood-soaked claw from the wall and turned to face Alexis. “Warbot six, respond!” she tried again. “Follow me.”

The two machines looked to each other, communicating in their language of squawks and warbles. Cad felt his gut tighten. Something was wrong.

“Damn it, follow me!” Alexis cried, this time yelling up at the cranial units of the machines.

Cad saw one of the warbots draw back its claw, and he gripped his sword, drawing it so savagely from its sheath that it split the material in half. The upward swing of the blade connected with the warbot’s claw as the machine thrust it toward Alexis’ heart. There was a sharp clash of metal, which was just enough to deflect the machine’s strike.

“Get back!” Cad cried to Alexis, but then he was struck across the chest by the warbot and hurled against the wall.

Alexis pulled her Bo staff from her waist and extended it, but she too was struck before she was able to land an attack. Cad watched, eyes wide with fear, as Alexis cartwheeled across the deck and landed hard against the mangled remains of another alien machine. He roared and pushed himself away from the wall, swinging the Black Prince at the warbot that had attacked Alexis with all of his augmented might. The alien-alloy blade, reforged with material from Draga Vex’s power armor, cut through the alien machine with ease. Its oblong cranial unit fell from its thick metal shoulders and thudded into the deck. The vee-shaped eye remained for a moment before its light fizzled to nothing.

Wasting no time, Cad swung at the final machine – the one they’d named “number six” – but the warbot evaded the attack and swung its claw at Cad. He ducked under the strike, which tore a chunk out the wall, before sidestepping and swinging again. This time, the machine blocked, but the Black Prince cut through its arm, severing one of the claw-like fists. Cad kicked the machine away and lunged, attempting to piece the warbot through its torso, but again the machine evaded. Cad was hit by the warbot’s severed stump and slammed back against the wall again. He winced from the pain and felt blood trickle down the back of his head. The machine pressed its attack and Cad managed to block, but despite his advanced power armor, the warbot was stronger. The metal of Cad’s armor creaked and began to buckle as the machine’s eye drilled into him, growing sharper and angrier by the second. However, Cad could not move. The warbot had him pinned to the wall and continued to tighten its grip, like slowly turning the handle of a vise.

Suddenly, the machine spasmed and Cad felt electricity shoot through his body, causing him to convulse too. The machine pulled back and spun around, revealing Alexis Black, Bo staff in hand. The crackling tip of the weapon was pressed to the warbot’s frame. However, even this was not enough to subdue it. The machine tore the staff from Alexis’ grasp and pushed her away, again sending her skidding across the deck. Cad roared again, raised the Black Prince, and thrust it through the body of the alien machine, driving it all the way to the hilt. The warbot spun around and looked down at the blade, its single blue eye warping and twisting as if it were confused. Still weakened from the electric shock, Cad collapsed back against the wall and waited. He’d done all he could to destroy the machine. If his last blow didn’t kill it, he was finished. The warbot’s eye flickered and it grasped its remaining claw around the blade before raising its stump high above its cranial unit. Then it hammered its arm down across the flat of the blade, shattering the sword into a dozen pieces.

“Just die!” Cad howled at the machine as it advanced, gripping its claw around his throat. The warbot’s eye met Cad’s furious gaze, the single line of light flickering more chaotically as each second ticked by. “Die!” Cad croaked as the machine tightened its grip, but Cad could see that it was fading fast. Cad grasped the machine’s claw and finally managed to overcome it. The alien machine emitted a string of warbles and squawks, then dropped to its knees before the light went out for good. Cad continued to watch the machine for a few more seconds until he was sure it was destroyed, then he pushed it away and ran to Alexis’s side. She had managed to climb to her knees, but blood matted her hair and her armor was dented and cracked in a dozen different places.

“Are you okay?” said Cad, for once showing his concern without restraint.

Alexis nodded. “I’ll be fine,” she said, using Cad to pull herself upright. “Let’s get going. We shouldn’t stay in one place too long.”

“No, I can see you’re hurt,” said Cad. “We can find Knight another time.”

“I’ve been hurt before,” said Alexis, collecting her Bo staff and reattaching it to her belt. “You’ve never worried before.”

If Alexis had told him this a few months ago, she would have been right, but not any longer. Cad was about to admit this to her when the security announcement repeated. More enforcers rushed past the door to the docking garage, and Cad instinctively reached for his sword before remembering that it had been destroyed. When he was sure the enforcers were gone, he turned back to Alexis. “I’ll go after Knight on my own. You get clear. This is my score to settle.”

Alexis grabbed Cad’s chest plate. The fire in her eyes was pure warrior Alexis – her other persona had been buried deeper than he’d ever seen before. “What’s gotten into you?” Alexis snapped. “We’re a team. It’s you and me, always was, always will be. Besides, they killed Draga. That makes this as much my fight as it is yours. We fight together, and if it’s our fate, we die together.”

Cad gritted his teeth and forced down a dry swallow. His own weakness and sentimentality disgusted him. Alexis was right. She was not his to protect, and not his to save.

“Re-arm and meet me at the door,” said Cad, his resolve renewed.

Alexis released Cad’s chest plate and nodded before noticing that Cad’s sword was missing. “Where is your Black Prince sword?” she asked, clearly surprised that it was not in Cad’s possession.

“That damned machine smashed it,” said Cad, casting his eyes toward “number six,” still slumped on its knees. “I’ll have to do without.”

“No, you won’t,” said Alexis. Then she nodded to Cad’s ship. “The Black Prince isn’t the only sword you own.”

Cad watched Alexis hurry back inside her ship to collect the weapons she’d need to fight their way to the Randenite core. With her words still echoing in his mind, Cad then entered his own fighter. However, there was only one weapon he was interested in retrieving. He lifted the lid on a storage container in the cargo hold and pulled out the box that had originally contained his reforged Black Prince sword. Now it contained something that was considerably more ancient, and of purely earthly origins, but that was no less special. Setting the box down, Cad lifted the lid to reveal the Honjō Masamune. Cad laughed, wondering if the Banker had given it to him somehow knowing the weapon would be needed for one last battle. Removing the ancient Katana from the box, Cad held it in his hands, staring in awe at the craftsmanship of the blade. The weapon had no scabbard, but Cad didn’t need one, because the sword would not be leaving his grasp.

Stepping down the ramp of his fighter, Cad strode to the door of the docking garage, where Alexis was already waiting for him. Her Bo staff was still attached to her waist, and the twin Five-Seven-Sevens were holstered on her hips. However, in her hands, she held a weapon that was instantly familiar to Cad. It was Draga Vex’s semi-automatic shotgun.

“Ready to finish this?” said Alexis.

Cad flourished the Honjō Masamune, admiring the supreme balance of the weapon and the way the blade caught the light. “It ends here, agreed? No matter what.”

Alexis’ eyes narrowed. “It ends here, no matter what,” she repeated. Then Alexis slapped a magazine into the shotgun and loaded it. “But no matter what, it ends with us together.”

27

Hallam and Dakota moved swiftly though the corridors of the Centrum’s utilitarian basement levels, weapons loaded and ready. Dr. Rand, with the assistance of new renegade recruit Felix Hanson, was a persistent voice in their ears, guiding them through the structure to their destination – the Randenite refinery core.

“Be advised there are now ten enforcer squads on your level,” said Dr. Rand. Hallam could hear the scientist’s fingers tapping on the controls of the console in the computer room, where she and Felix had remained. “I have blocked and redirected most of them, but you will meet resistance at the next intersection. Six regular enforcers.”

“Understood, Doc,” replied Hallam, quickening his pace.

“From there, take the emergency stairwell up to refinery level two, sub-section four.” Dr. Rand continued. “I will contact you again then.”

Hallam and Dakota advanced toward the intersection and took up positions, waiting to ambush the approaching enforcer squad. Bootsteps reverberated through the deck and Hallam sucked in deep breaths, aiming his submachine gun at the door. The first enforcer rushed inside and Hallam and Dakota opened fire, taking down the first two and driving the others back.

“I’m moving up!” cried Dakota, running out into the intersection as Hallam continued to lay down covering fire. Dakota made it through unscathed as bullets flew through the open door. Hallam felt a punch to his shoulder and pulled back further into cover. Checking his armor, the bullet had merely carved a narrow groove into the metal and not penetrated through. He silently thanked Dr. Rand for his protective shell then changed the magazine in his SMG.

“Hallam, go!” cried Dakota, firing through the door and taking out another two enforcers.

Hallam rushed into the intersection and along the adjoining corridor while Dakota continued to cover him. Spotting the emergency stairwell, he tried the handle, but it was locked. “Doc, can you open the emergency stairwell door?” Hallam called out, pressing a finger to his earpiece so that he could hear the scientist’s response over the rattle of gunfire.

“Your entire level has been locked down from operations,” replied Dr. Rand. “Stand by…”

Hallam cursed. “Hold them off for a few more seconds, Dak,” he called over to Dakota as she rushed to his side. Hallam handed her his loaded weapon, taking hers to reload.

“Hurry, I can see reinforcements heading along the corridor,” Dakota replied in between controlled bursts from the submachine gun.

“Any update, Doc?” Hallam called out, still pressing a finger to his ear.

“You may need to use more forceful means of entry, Mr. Knight,” Dr. Rand replied, her voice an oasis of calm in the middle of a raging hurricane.

Hallam stepped back from the door and launched a kick at it, buckling the metal, but the door held strong. “Come on, damn it!” Hallam growled. Backing up to the opposite wall, he charged forward and slammed his armored boot into the door, this time smashing it open.

“Dak, through here!” Hallam shouted, running into the emergency stairwell and racing up the flights of stairs. Dakota followed, slamming the door behind her. She then tore away some of the metal railings surrounding the stairs and used them to wedge it shut. Moments later, fists and boots pounded against the door, but it held firm, and Dakota ran up the stairs in pursuit of Hallam.

“Doc, I’m at the door to refinery level two, sub-section four. Should I expect company on the other side?” asked Hallam as Dakota thudded up the stairs behind him.

There was a brief silence before Dr. Rand replied, “I have limited visibility in the refinery level. Proceed with caution…”

Hallam huffed a laugh. “I think we’re way past being cautious,” he replied. Dakota grabbed the handle of the door and nodded to Hallam, then pulled it open. Hallam moved through into the intersection and ran straight into a squad of enforcers coming the other way. His sudden arrival stunned the enforcers, giving Hallam the advantage. He clubbed the first with the butt of his SMG, knocking him out cold, then charged into the remaining pack, roaring like a barbarian warrior. Thanks to the extra mass of his armor, the enforcers were toppled like ten pins. Weapons scattered across the deck like frightened mice, then the three remaining enforcers scrambled to their feet and faced down Hallam. Dakota moved out into the intersection, but more bootsteps began to thud toward them from an adjoining corridor. Cursing, she crouched and aimed her submachine gun, ready for the new arrivals.

“Hal, we’ve got more incoming!” Dakota called out while looking down the sights of her weapon.

A punch to the face prevented Hallam from responding. He was then slammed into the wall by the trio of enforcers, two of which had drawn batons. Ducking a swinging left hand, Hallam landed a right cross and heard bone crunch from the power of his augmented blow. Hands then closed around his throat while an enforcer ran to retrieve his rifle. Hallam gritted his teeth and headbutted the man holding his throat before lifting him into the air. The gears and motors in his suit groaned under the strain, but he was still able to launch the man at his squad mate. The two enforcers collided and the rifle discharged, peppering the wall with bullets. Hallam ducked and covered his head, feeling the projectiles thud into his back. Turning to the enforcers again, he found himself staring down the barrel of his rifle. Cracks split the air and Hallam flinched, expecting to be hit, but instead, the enforcer spasmed and fell. Dakota was crouched in the corridor to his side, smoke oozing from the barrel of her weapon.

“Thanks, Dak,” said Hallam, collecting one of the enforcer’s rifles then rushing up beside her.

More enforcers were advancing toward them and together they returned fire along the corridor, forcing the armed CSF heavies back into cover. However, the enforcer squads were increasing in strength and number by the minute and Hallam knew they could only hold them off for so long.

“Doc, we’re pinned down. Where do we go from here?” Hallam called out, hoping that Dr. Rand was still at the other end of his earpiece.

“Look for a cooling vent at ceiling level,” Dr. Rand replied. The mere sound of her calm, authoritative tones was instantly reassuring. “You can use it to reach refinery level one. The core is there.”

Hallam moved back into the center of the intersection and peered up at the high walls. “Got it,” he replied to Dr. Rand, spotting the vent. It was large enough to crawl through, Hallam considered, but only just. Raising his weapon, he opened fired at the duct, aiming at the screw mounts holding the cover in place. The metal panel fell, but behind it was a slow-moving industrial fan. Cursing, he called over to Dakota, who was pressed against the wall, laying down covering fire along the corridor. “Dak, hold them off for a minute,” he said, reloading his rifle and sliding it over to her across the deck.

“Whatever you’re doing, make it quick,” Dakota replied, firing another burst and hitting a gung-ho enforcer that had rushed into the corridor.

Hallam crouched low then propelled himself toward the vent, catching the lip with one hand. His armored glove blocked the fan blade, which then wedged his fingers against the wall of the duct. He could hear the metal begin to creak as the powerful blade squeezed against his armor. Hallam then reached inside and grabbed the fan housing, pulling with all his augmented strength. The fixings creaked and groaned and Hallam bit down, forcing his suit to work harder. Suddenly, the hinges snapped and the fan mount came loose. At the same time, Hallam’s other hand was freed and he found himself tumbling toward the deck. He hit hard, but other than feeling winded and a little embarrassed, he was unhurt.

“What the hell are you doing?” said Dakota, looking down at him, the muzzle of her rifle flashing as she continued to suppress the enforcer squads.

“Making us an exit,” said Hallam, dragging himself up and pointing to the duct.

Dakota glanced up and saw the opening. “We have to go through there?” she said, making it sound as if Hallam had asked her to walk through a cesspit.

“Unless you’d rather stay here?” replied Hallam as another bullet skipped off his armor.

Dakota shrugged. “On second thought, no,” she answered. Then her smile vanished and her eyes grew wide. “Hal, behind you!”

Hallam spun around as an enforcer burst into the intersection. The man’s weapon fired and Hallam took a hit, but there was no time to check how bad. Rushing the enforcer, he grabbed the man’s weapon and snapped it in half like a twig. Amazingly, the enforcer was undeterred and swung a punch into Hallam’s gut, but his fist hit solid metal and the man yelped in pain. Two hard shots from Hallam put the enforcer down before more bullets landed on his body. Moving into cover, he checked his armor. It was scarred and dented all over, but then he saw it had been punctured, below his chest. Cursing, he spotted a second hole in his thigh.

“Hal, are you okay?” Dakota called to him, while still firing along the corridor.

“I’m fine, but we need to move,” said Hallam. It wasn’t a lie – the hits had not penetrated his skin – but the new holes in his armor would mean he was no longer fully protected from Randenite radiation. However, that was a problem for another time, Hallam decided. First, they had to reach the core.

Dakota reloaded her rifle and handed it to Hallam. “Hold them back while I jump up,” she said, angling herself toward the duct. She then launched herself at the newly-revealed opening and caught the ledge cleanly, pulling herself inside.

Hallam alternated his fire between the two corridors where the enforcers were advancing. The rifle quickly clicked empty and he cursed, tossing it to the floor.

“Hal, jump!” cried Dakota, who was leaning out of the duct, waving Hallam on.

Bullets danced off the walls and skipped off the floor to either side as Hallam turned and leapt for the duct. His fingers grasped the ledge then slipped, but Dakota caught his wrist. Dangling precariously, she hauled him though the opening as the enforcers moved into the intersection. Bullets thudded inside around the duct, sounding like a heavy hailstorm landing on a tin roof, but Hallam and Dakota had already scrambled deep enough inside to be clear of any incoming fire.

“Thanks again,” said Hallam, lying flat on his back to regain his breath.

“Don’t thank me yet; we’ve still a long way to go,” said Dakota, patting Hallam on the chest. “Come on, you can rest when we’re safely away from the Centrum.”

Dakota led the way through the cooling duct, which climbed sharply toward the upper section of the refinery level. Their armor scraping and clanging against the metal duct as they climbed sounded like an orchestra tuning up.

“Doc, we’re approaching the upper refinery level,” Hallam said. “Any surprises when we get there?”

“I’ve blocked off the section as best I can,” replied Dr. Rand, sounding a little less composed that she had been. “However, for reasons I have yet to discover, more than half of the enforcer squads that were moving on you have been diverted elsewhere.”

“That’s good, right?” said Dakota, her knees and elbows clanging against the duct.

“Possibly…” replied the scientist, in a way that suggested what she really meant was “no.” “They will have been diverted for a reason. I will try to learn more. Meanwhile, when you exit the duct, advance directly to your right and you will reach the tertiary refinery core control room.”

“Roger that, Doc,” said Hallam, who was now literally seeing the light at the end of the tunnel. “We’re approaching the exit now.”

Dakota crawled to the end of the duct, but the opening was blocked by another fan. She shuffled around in the narrow space so that her legs were facing the fan and landed a hard kick. The fan groaned from the impact and Dakota kicked it again, this time propelling it out into the room below.

“Well, no one is shooting, so that’s a promising start,” said Hallam as Dakota spun around again and chanced a peek through the opening.

“It’s clear,” she said, sliding her legs out and dropping down. The thump of her landing sounded like a garage door being slammed shut.

Hallam dropped down beside her and both of them drew their pistols, which were the only weapons they had left.

“Is it wrong that I think we should be fighting through waves of enforcers by now?” said Hallam, moving through the eerily quiet corridor.

“Yes, absolutely it is,” replied Dakota, scowling at him. “Now shut up, or you’ll jinx us.”

They reached the end of the corridor, which widened into a large, open plan control room, not dissimilar to the computer control room on the basement level. The main difference was that one side of the room was a huge slab of metal with meter-high radiation warning symbols on it. Hallam guessed that the wall marked the boundary to the refinery core.

“We’re at the control room, Doc,” said Hallam, sweeping his weapon from corner to corner.

“Good. There will be a door in the shielded wall that leads into the refinery core. I am hacking the lock now,” said Dr. Rand. Again, the sound of her fingers working frantically on a console filtered through the earpiece.

“That wouldn’t be the door with the giant radiation symbol on it, warning of a grisly death to any who enter, by any chance?” said Hallam, with a fatalistic air.

“Correct, Mr. Knight,” replied Dr. Rand, appearing not to notice Hallam’s attempt at sarcasm. “Though you will be fine inside the first space you enter. However, before you progress into the primary Randenite storage facility, you must activate your helmet. Even so, I recommend you deploy the Shelby field inverter and leave again with maximum haste.”

Hallam huffed a laugh. “As usual, Doc, you don’t need to tell me twice.”

Hallam and Dakota moved into the control room, weaving between the rows of consoles and tall control stations that organized the act of alchemy that was producing Randenite. Hallam went to the door that Dr. Rand had talked about. It looked like the entrance to a gold vault. He tried the handle, but it was still locked tight. A keypad next to it was lit up red.

Suddenly, bootsteps thudded into the room and a squad of four Vanguard Enforcers entered at the side opposite to Hallam and Dakota, quickly taking up defensive positions. Hallam and Dakota both cursed and moved behind cover as another measured set of footsteps thudded inside. However, these were not the footsteps of more Vanguard Enforcers. Instead, they were the footsteps of Dexter Stone.

28

Cad charged at the advancing squad and swung the Honjō Masamune sword, severing one of the enforcer’s arms clean off below the elbow. The man screamed, but only for a moment before Cad thrust the blade through the enforcer’s throat, silencing him for good. More enforcers ran into the corridor, but the rapid boom of Alexis’ shotgun felled three of the hapless CSF heavies before they had even seen the whites of her eyes. Cad surged on, using the ancient Katana to brutal effect, slicing through flesh as easily as cutting down weeds. The remaining enforcers retreated or fled as blood dripped from the tip of Cad’s sword. He knelt down and tore a headset from one of the dead men, pressing the speaker to his ear. Through the frantic mash-up of casualty reports and movement orders, he pieced together where he and Alexis needed to go next.

“Knight and Wulfrun are heading to the refinery core, level one,” said Cad, tearing the headset off and tossing it to the deck. It landed in a steadily-expanding pool of blood, the thick liquid muting the sound from the speaker.

Alexis wiped her brow, smearing blood across her forehead from a cut to her temple, and surveyed the intersection. “There,” she said, aiming the barrel of her shotgun toward a sweeping circular stairwell leading down. “That will take us to refinery level. Doyle’s codes will unlock the gates to allow us inside.”

Cad grunted and cleaned the blade of the sword on the pants of one of the dead enforcers. His face was splashed with blood, a mix of his own and that of dozens of others who had fallen at the edge of the ancient Samurai weapon. His armor was pockmarked and scratched, and he could feel the sting of bullets that had perforated his protective shell. The pain kept him focused and alert, just as it had always done for Draga Vex. Soon you will be avenged, Cad thought as the image of her body lying dead in the hold of his fighter invaded his thoughts. Then Draga’s face morphed and he was staring down at Alexis instead, her lifeless eyes peering up at him. Cad felt a stab of fear in his gut, and he pressed his eyes shut, trying to expel the thought from his mind.

“Hey, are you still with me?” said Alexis, staring back at Cad from the top of the stairwell. “We need to go down here.”

Cad grunted and moved on, still trying to force the vison from his mind, but it stuck there like the afterimage of a camera flash. Alexis had also not escaped additional harm during their bloody battle through the Centrum. She had suffered injuries similar to his own, or perhaps even worse. Despite his efforts to purge the thoughts from his mind, he still feared for Alexis. Ignoring what lay ahead, there was also the possibility she’d suffered internal injuries from being struck by the warbot, or other injuries that she was simply hiding from him, because she was too proud to show weakness. However, they were deep inside the Centrum now, and only a single level away from the refinery core. It was as dangerous to turn back as it was to go forward, Cad realized. Yet ahead was a chance at retribution, while turning back would mean forever living with the stain of Hallam Knight, not only on his reputation, but on his very soul.

The sound of voices and bootsteps roused Cad from his thoughts, and he quickened his pace, lifting the Honjō Masamune to his side. An enforcer rounded the bend of the arcing stairwell and Cad slashed him across the neck, adding more blood to the montage of red splashes already splayed across his armor. The man dropped, but Cad had swung again before the body had even hit the floor, opening a deep gash into the gut of a second enforcer. Bullets thudded into his chest and arms and he felt the bite of pain but continued on, driving the blade through the bodies of the enforcers who had shot him. Alexis slid past Cad on his outside, riding the stairs like a helter-skelter and tripping another enforcer, sending him tumbling into his squad-mates. She was back on her feet, semi-automatic shotgun raining thunder into the helpless enforcers before any of them had managed to stand.

Cad moved up beside Alexis, trailing a line of fresh blood behind him from the tip of his sword. Ahead of them was a security gate, illuminated by intimidating red lights, above which was a sign that read “Randenite refinery level. Authorized personnel only. Intruders will be shot on sight.” Alexis walked up the barrier and entered a code into the keypad to its side. The lights flashed green and the gate opened. Cad entered first as Alexis detached the magazine from her shotgun and slapped in another. Ahead was a sign pointing to the tertiary Randenite refinery control room. Ahead was vengeance. Without a word to one another, Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black marched into the room then halted abruptly as they realized they were not alone. To his left, Cad saw Dexter Stone, surrounded by four of his Vanguard Enforcers, while to his right was Hallam Knight and Dakota Wulfrun.

29

Hallam had not been surprised to see Dexter Stone, but the arrival of Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black into the Randenite refinery control room shook him. The Vanguard Enforcers quickly split their aim between Hallam and Dakota and Cad and Alexis, while Alexis aimed her shotgun directly at Dexter Stone. In comparison, the pistols that Hallam and Dakota were holding were entirely outclassed by the powerful weapons of the Vanguard and Blackfire Squadron. For several seconds, no one spoke or even moved, until Dexter Stone raised his hand and took a pace forward.

“Well, it seems that finally we’re all gathered in the same place,” the commandant said, sounding bullish. Then Stone looked across the room to Hallam and Dakota. “I must admit, I’m impressed that you got this far,” he said, pressing his hands behind his back. “It’s a shame that you couldn’t manage to follow orders and keep your mouth shut at the academy, Knight, or you might have made a good enforcer.”

Hallam laughed and shook his head. “That’s not really a compliment, Stone,” he called back. “But thanks anyway…”

The commandant’s eyes narrowed. “Now you must realize this is the end of your little renegade incursion,” Stone continued. “Though it has at least proven that Dr. Rand was holding out on me. This modified drive that allowed you to bridge inside our defense perimeter is simply evidence that her technology can be improved and corrected.”

“You just don’t get it, do you?” Hallam hit back, suddenly engulfed by wave of exasperation. “Even the alien bridge drive technology caused their own star system to collapse. We’re decades away from understanding why, but only days or weeks away from billions more dying. We have to destroy this refinery. Why can’t you get that into your thick heads? This is the only way we survive.”

Cad Rikkard had been quietly observing the exchange, sword in hand. Hallam was curious as to why he hadn’t yet spoken up. Dexter Stone then turned his attention to the mercenary.

“Well, Colonel,” Stone began, speaking the word “colonel” through gritted teeth. “It seems we want the same thing… Knight’s head on a platter.” Cad Rikkard glanced at Hallam as Stone said this, then turned his attention back to the commandant. “Take him for me, and I’ll guarantee your safety off this station. After that, you can do as you please, so long as I never have to see you again.”

Cad stepped out beside Stone, causing the Vanguard Enforcers to flinch and train their weapons on him.

“Doc, we need that door open, now!” said Hallam, ducking further into cover so the others couldn’t see or hear him.

“One minute, Mr. Knight. Please stand by,” came the reply from the scientist, still as calm and assured as ever.

Damn it, we’ll be dead in thirty seconds… thought Hallam, glancing anxiously at Dakota.

“Not that I should trust you, after all your deceptions, but you’re right,” Cad said to Stone, stopping at the commandant’s right side. “I will kill Knight and Wulfrun, then the Blackfire Squadron walks out of here and has nothing to do with the Consortium ever again.” Stone smiled and puffed out his barrel chest, though Cad was not yet finished speaking. “However, neither of those things require me to make a deal with a pathetic, lying snake like you.”

In a flash, Cad spun the Honjō Masamune into a reverse grip and impaled Dexter Stone through the chest. In the same instant, Alexis Black opened fire, blasting the two closest enforcers in the head with her shotgun. Hallam and Dakota ducked into cover as the remaining Vanguard unleashed rifle fire into the room. Cad used the ample frame of Dexter Stone as a shield, then kicked the commandant into one of the two remaining enforcers, flattening the Vanguard beneath Stone’s weight. Cad then swung the Katana again, removing the trigger hand of the last enforcer. Alexis’ shotgun boomed once more and the man was blasted into the empty corridor to his rear. The Vanguard that Cad had levelled with Stone’s body then threw the commandant aside and struggled to draw a tomahawk from his back. Cad struck the weapon from the man’s hand then pressed his boot to the enforcer’s throat. Hallam watched in horror as Cad slowly increased the pressure, until the man’s windpipe was crushed and the enforcer wheezed his dying breath.

“Doc…” said Hallam as Cad Rikkard turned to face him, blood-soaked sword in hand.

“Twenty seconds…” came the reply in Hallam’s ear, but Hallam knew that would be too long.

Standing up and moving out of cover, Hallam aimed his pistol at Cad Rikkard. “Five minutes, Rikkard!” Hallam yelled as the mercenary advanced, strangely unhurried. “Just give me five minutes to finish what I need to do. Then you and me can have it out. Pistols at dawn, Queensbury rules... Swords if you want, I don’t give a damn! Just give me five more minutes.”

Cad flourished the Katana, spraying Stone’s blood into the room. “You’ve already had more time than you deserve, Knight,” Cad spat back. “This time, I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Cad continued to advance and Hallam added pressure to the trigger, raising his aim so that the weapon was pointed at Cad’s head. Then Alexis Black fell to the ground, her shotgun spilling from her grasp.

“Alexis!” Cad roared, dropping his sword and scrambling to the female mercenary’s side.

Hallam lowered his weapon and edged closer to the door leading into the refinery core. From his new position, he could see Alexis Black on the deck, blood leaking from wounds that had penetrated her armor. Then the door panel flashed and turned green. Hallam tried the handle and the door opened.

“Finish it!” Alexis cried, spitting blood as she spoke. “Take him down before he escapes again.”

Cad shook his head, but Alexis pushed him away. “Take him then come back for me,” she yelled, scrambling away from Cad and pressing herself up against the wall. “We came here to end this, so end it! I’ll be waiting for you, I promise. I will never leave you. Now go!”

Cad glanced back at Hallam, his face a tortured mix of rage and anguish. Then, without warning, the mercenary pushed away from Alexis and ran at him. Hallam hesitated, caught between whether to fight Cad or continue with the mission. Dakota made the choice for him, bundling Hallam through the door. He landed heavily and the pistol fell from his grasp, clattering away into some dark corner of the refinery core. When he looked up again, he saw Dakota trying to push the door shut and trap Cad Rikkard outside. However, the mercenary had already reached her. Grabbing Dakota by the shoulders, Cad tore her away from the door and threw her back into the control room. The mercenary then stepped inside, slammed the door shut and smashed his armored fist into the lock panel. Finally, Cad Rikkard had Hallam cornered, and this time, he knew there was no prospect of escape.

30

Hallam climbed to his feet as Cad Rikkard circled around him like a tiger stalking its prey. The mercenary’s eyes were wild, almost feral. His face and armor were smeared with the blood of countless enforcers, like some sort of warpaint. He was a grotesque caricature of himself, Hallam realized. This was not the smooth, professional mercenary, nor the self-proclaimed “superior man.” This was a soul that had been corrupted by bitterness, rage, and vanity. However, what surprised Hallam was that he could also see fear behind the mercenary’s eyes. It was a fear of failure. A fear of losing the one thing that defined Cad Rikkard most of all – the mercenary’s unflinching belief that he was the best. Every act of defiance by Hallam and the Wolf Squadron had eaten away at Cad Rikkard’s core. The shame of each defeat had calcified the doubt in the mercenary’s mind. If Cad Rikkard couldn’t beat Hallam Knight, then how could he be the best? Perhaps Cad’s vendetta had once been about revenge, Hallam considered as the bloodied mercenary continued to circle around him, teeth gritted. Now it was about freeing Cad Rikkard of the torment Hallam had unintentionally inflicted on him, simply by virtue of staying alive. That was why Cad had pursued him, despite the losses the mercenary had endured. And that was why Hallam had to face Cad Rikkard now and put an end to their feud, one way or another.

“Where are you going to run to now, Knight?” Cad spat as the pair continued to circle around each other.

Hallam reached into the pouch and removed the Shelby inverter device. “Let me plant this charge inside the Randenite storage area, then you and I can finish this,” said Hallam, holding the device out to Cad. “This will destroy the Centrum and seal the bridges. If you kill me before I do this, you just kill yourself too.”

“I’m not afraid of death,” Cad hit back. “I’ve faced death a hundred times before. This is no different.”

“Yes, it is,” snapped Hallam. “You may have faced death, but you’ve always cheated it. This time, you won’t. No one will. Let me finish what I came here to do. Then I’ll fight you. You have my word!”

“Your word!” Cad spat back. “What is your word worth, Knight? You’re nothing compared to me.”

“I don’t give damn what you think of me, Rikkard,” said Hallam, placing the Shelby inverter on the deck in front of the door to the primary Randenite storage area. “But if you don’t care about yourself, then think of Alexis. Kill me now, and all you’re doing is killing her too.”

The mention of Alexis Black was like pouring water on boiling oil. “Don’t speak her name!” Cad spat, narrowing the distance between them. “Don’t you ever speak her name!”

Talking about Alexis had further unhinged the mercenary, and Hallam hoped this would make him rash and careless. If they were going to fight, one-on-one, Hallam knew he’d need every advantage.

“You could save Alexis’ life, right here, right now,” Hallam continued. “Or is your pride worth more than her life? Do you even care about her at all?”

Cad roared and charged at Hallam, swinging a wild right hand. Hallam dodged the attack and Cad’s punch smashed through an exposed heating pipe, causing a plume of steam to burst into the room. Hallam was quick to counter, but Cad blocked with his forearm, the sharp clash of their metal armor piercing his ears. Hallam took a kick to the gut and reeled backwards as Cad advanced again, raining down blows with unforgiving speed and power. Hallam protected his head but felt each crushing punch to the body like they were hits from a sledgehammer. Landing a knee to Cad’s armored body, Hallam grabbed the mercenary’s waist and threw him against the wall. Cad’s head cracked against the surface, but the pain only seemed to make him stronger. Hallam attacked again, narrowly missing with a hard right, which dug a chunk out of the wall before connecting with a left hook to Cad’s ribs. Then Hallam was caught again with a combo of ferocious shots and driven back as kicks flashed at his body and head. Ducking and weaving, Hallam thumped a right hand into the center of Cad’s chest, but the blow caused his own armored gauntlet to fracture. Pulling his exposed right hand out danger, he jabbed with his left, catching Cad across the side of the head, stunning him. A thumping front kick then sent Cad Rikkard thudding into the wall.

The gears and motors in Hallam’s power armor were now stuttering and rattling like an old car engine, but he pressed his attack, landing another solid left. Cad reeled back, the mercenary’s own armor also showing signs of strain. Cad blocked Hallam’s next strike and landed a crushing blow to Hallam’s body. Hallam went down to one knee, feeling the cracked and bowed armor pressing against his ribs. Cad stepped forward and launched a kick at Hallam’s head, but he just managed to raise his arms. The desperate defensive move saved his life but sent him skidding across the deck. Hallam pushed himself up, but his armor was failing and it took everything he had to raise his arms to again protect his face. Cad continued his relentless advance, raining punch after punch down on Hallam’s body and arms, roaring louder and louder with each blow until finally Hallam went down. Exhausted, hurt, and unable to move due to his crippled armor, Hallam peered up at the mercenary from the flat of his back and spat blood onto the deck.

“You win,” said Hallam, resting the back of his head on a piece of his broken armor. “You’re the best. You’re the superior man. That’s what you wanted to hear, right?”

Cad lowered his fists and stared at Hallam, blood streaming down his face like tears. However, the savageness behind the mercenary’s eyes had gone. If anything, Cad looked lost and just as broken as Hallam’s smashed armor.

“Congratulations, Rikkard,” Hallam continued, trying to sit up, but he was a prisoner in his armor. “Now you get to kill Hallam Knight, and damn the whole of humanity along with me. But you don’t care, right? You’ve got your vengeance and proved your point. That’s all that matters. Draga, Alexis… they’re just collateral damage. The only person Cad Rikkard cares about is Cad Rikkard, and damn everyone else!”

Cad said nothing and stepped over the top of Hallam’s prone body, still peering intently into his eyes. Hallam relaxed back and accepted his fate. He’d come close to completing the Darkspace Renegade’s mission – far closer than he ever expected to do – but in the end, Cad’s hate had won through. Now the mercenary’s destructive will would not only lead to the end of Hallam Knight, but the end of everything.

“Go on, get it over with,” Hallam shouted up at the mercenary, willing him to finish the task and put him out of his misery. “We’re all dead anyway.”

To Hallam’s astonishment, Cad then lowered his boot and sat down on the deck beside him. The mercenary’s eyes were distant and his shoulders were hunched. Cad Rikkard remained this way for some time, silently stroking the bottom of his chin with his thumb, lost in his own thoughts. Hallam scowled, unsure of what to say or do, until the mercenary picked up the Shelby inverter from the deck and cradled it in his hands. Cad Rikkard’s eyes then met Hallam’s, and the mercenary spoke six words in an order that Hallam never imagined he’d hear.

“Show me how this thing works.”

31

Cad waited for the renegade to answer his question, but Hallam Knight just stared back at him blankly. Then a thump at the door to the operations room drew Cad’s gaze away. The sound came again and he could feel the deck shake.

“Stone’s enforcers are breaking down the door, Knight,” Cad said, glancing back at Hallam. He then grabbed the renegade by his broken armor and shook him. “Wake up and tell me how this thing works while there’s still time!”

Hallam still didn’t answer. He simply stared back at Cad like he was in shock. Cad pulled the renegade up by his armor and pressed him against the wall. Like a broken toy, Hallam stayed where Cad had put him, unable to move. “Wake up, damn you!” Cad yelled, slapping Hallam across the face and smearing the man’s cheek with blood. However, the slap also seemed to rouse the renegade from his catatonic state.

“You can’t be serious?” said Hallam. “You want to plant the inverter into the Randenite fuel store?”

Cad rose to his feet with the Shelby field inverter still in his hands. “Well you can hardly do it, can you?” he replied bitterly, knowing that this wasn’t the answer to the renegade’s actual question.

“If this is a joke, you’ve picked a strange time to develop a sense of humor, Rikkard,” said Hallam as another heavy thud hammered into the door.

“It’s no joke, Knight. Now tell me what to do before I change my mind,” Cad spat back, again glancing at the door. In his mind, all he could see was Alexis, blood trickling from her mouth. He’d heard no more gunshots or shotgun blasts, yet if enforcers were at the door, Alexis must have gotten out. He had to believe that she had.

“Why?” said Hallam. “After everything you’ve said and done. After all the lives you’ve taken, and the sacrifices you’ve made. I need to know why.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you, Knight,” Cad answered. “I’ve beaten you. I’m better than you.” Then thumping his chest with his fist, he added, “I am the superior man!” Beating the renegade had lifted the burden from Cad’s shoulders, like a prisoner’s chains being cut. However, in his moment of triumph, all he could think about was Alexis and Knight’s taunts that his pride was worth more than her life. And always there was Rand’s voice at the back of his mind. She had looked down her nose at Cad and claimed that he would forever be in Knight’s shadow. Humanity. Virtue. Nobility. Honor… these were the traits the scientist claimed Cad did not possess. He knew that killing Knight would satisfy his desire for vengeance, but he also knew it would prove the scientist to be right. “I’ve done what I said I’d do, Knight,” Cad continued, still peering down imperiously at his defeated enemy. “That’s all you need to know.”

Hallam shook his head and then, to Cad’s surprise, the renegade laughed. “I still don’t buy it, Rikkard, but what the hell, I’ll tell you,” the renegade said, finally relenting. “You twist the upper hemisphere forty-five degrees then depress the plunger on the top,” Hallam said, still sounding deeply cynical. “Plant it somewhere in the middle of the Randenite storage tanks, through there.” Hallam nodded his head toward the door leading into the primary storage area. “Then you have thirty minutes to get out, before this station goes up like the big bang.”

Cad grunted and moved over to the door. It was locked, but Cad had already memorized all of Damien Doyle’s personal access codes. Like a secret back door, these codes granted him access to anywhere on the Centrum, and since no one else knew of them, no one could block or rescind them. Cad entered the code and the panel turned green, but before he pulled the handle, Hallam Knight called out to him.

“I don’t know why the hell I’m telling you this, but you should know that the radiation in there will kill you,” said Hallam, arching his neck to look at Cad. More heavy thuds shuddered through the deck and the door to the operations center began to buckle. “If your armor was intact and you had a helmet, you might survive. But as you are, going in there is a death sentence.”

Cad grunted. “We’re all dead anyway, isn’t that right?” he replied, yanking the handle down and pulling the door ajar. Then he stopped and sighed. He didn’t want to ask anything of the renegade, but in this case, he was willing to swallow his pride. Meeting Hallam Knight’s eyes, he asked, “You believe yourself to be an honorable man, don’t you?”

“I try to be,” replied Hallam, attempting a shrug, but again the weight of the armor resisted the renegade’s attempt to move. “I want to be,” Hallam added more solemnly.

“Then make me a promise,” said Cad, gripping the handle of the door so tightly that his gloves cracked.

“What promise?” asked Hallam, frowning.

“Promise me first,” Cad hit back. “If you’re a man of honor as you claim to be, it doesn’t matter what I ask.”

Hallam snorted a laugh. “Fine, whatever Rikkard. I promise.”

“If you get out of here, promise me you’ll take Alexis with you,” said Cad. Hallam’s frown deepened into a scowl, but this time, the renegade didn’t scoff at Cad’s request or show his disdain. “Promise me you’ll get her out.”

Hallam was silent for a moment, but then simply said, “I promise.”

Cad pulled the door fully open and was about to step inside, but then looked at Hallam one last time. “And tell Rand she was wrong about me. She’ll understand. Make sure she knows what I did.” Then before Hallam could answer, Cad had moved through the door, closing and locking it behind him.

* * *

During his many visits to the Centrum, Cad had been to almost every part of the unique space station, including the high-security primary operations center. He’d even witnessed the production facilities where the barrels of Randenite were filled, ready for loading onto the armored tankers that the Wolf Squadron renegades had once crewed. However, this was somewhere he’d never seen before. Cad doubted few people ever had. Moving along the corridor, Cad quickly found himself on a gangway that spanned a vast open area that was filled floor-to-ceiling with row upon row of Randenite storage tanks. It was like a sea of undulating metal domes. Even to Cad’s veteran eyes, it was an incredible sight.

Boots clattering on the metal gangway suddenly drew Cad’s attention away from the sea of storage containers. Across the far end of the gangway, coming from the opposite side of the Centrum to where Cad had entered, was a squad of four enforcers. They each wore bulky hazard suits that impeded their movements so severely that Cad could have defeated them with one hand tied behind his back. However, the time for fighting was done. He’d already won all of the battles he needed to win. He’d already proved himself.

Jumping over the railings, Cad landed on one of the Randenite tanks then climbed down into the depths of the cavernous storage area. Desperate voices called out as he descended, but their electronically processed cries were already inaudible to Cad’s ears. Dropping down onto the floor of the storage area, Cad moved between the tanks, allowing himself to become lost. His mind was finally free of Hallam Knight. That stain had been washed clean. He’d beaten Damien Doyle. He’d beaten Dexter Stone. And he’d beaten the Darkspace Renegades too. More than this, he’d proved the almost godlike figure of Dr. Shelby Rand wrong. Here Cad Rikkard was, at the peak of his accomplishments, sacrificing his own life so that the woman he loved could live. He hadn’t planned for this to happen. He hadn’t even realized he would do it, until he had Hallam Knight’s head underneath his boot, ready to squash the life out of the renegade. And as much as Knight and Wulfrun and Rand would like to believe, he wasn’t doing it for himself. That was what had surprised him more than anything else.

Lights flashed in front of Cad’s eyes and he felt suddenly weak. He dropped to one knee, despite his alien-derived power armor still functioning almost perfectly. Then his eyes darkened and the next thing he knew, Cad found himself resting back against one of the thousands of storage tanks. Taking a deep breath, Cad held the Shelby field inverter in front of him and twisted the upper hemisphere, listening to the click, click, click of the mechanism as he did so. It was like winding up an ancient mechanical clock. Then he pressed the plunger and slid the device underneath the tank he was resting against.

Cad recalled that he had once said he didn’t care if the worlds burned, so long as he got his revenge. He had once proclaimed that he would stand atop the ashes of these ruined planets as the last man alive. At the time, he believed it all. At the time, there was no room for anything inside his heart other than hatred and revenge and victory. Now that space was occupied only by Alexis. She had followed him loyally, blindly, and fiercely, because she loved him without question or condition. However, this was one journey that Cad had to make alone.

Sucking in a deep breath of the poisoned air inside the Randenite storage area, Cad spoke Rand’s words again. “Humanity. Virtue. Nobility. Honor…” he said, attempting a laugh but managing only a bitter cough. He had beaten them all and proven every one of them wrong. Cad Rikkard’s legacy would not be that of the last man alive. He would be the man that saved everyone. And what better, more complete and uneclipsable victory for the leader of the Blackfire Squadron could there be than this.

32

Hallam remained propped up against the wall where Cad Rikkard had left him, still helpless and unable to move. He’d tried calling to Dr. Rand through his earpiece, but the additional shielding inside the refinery core had blocked the signal. The hard thuds to the door leading into the control room had also continued long after the mercenary had taken the Shelby inverter device and entered the Randenite storage area. Now the door was finally on the verge of collapsing, but Hallam could do nothing but sit and wait.

Thud after thud continued to resonate through the deck and the door gave way, crashing inward and slamming to the deck. Hallam braced himself for the wave of enforcers that he was sure were about to burst inside, but instead, he saw Dakota Wulfrun. She was holding a fire extinguisher, which was mangled and bent as badly as the door. Dakota tossed the fire extinguisher to the deck and rushed to Hallam’s side.

“Hal, are you okay?” she said, quickly checking him over.

“I feel like a punching bag, but I’m okay,” Hallam replied, trying and failing to move his arms and legs. “The suit is wrecked, though. Right now, it’s just a dead weight holding me down.”

Dakota became suddenly alert and spun around, checking the dimly-lit corners of the room, as if she’d just seen a ghost. “Where’s Rikkard?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” said Hallam, managing a weak smile.

“Try me…” replied Dakota, returning her attention to him and starting to peel away the damaged armor.

“The short version is that he kicked my ass, then took the Shelby inverter and went to plant it himself,” Hallam said, wincing as Dakota tore mangled plates of armor from his body.

Dakota stopped in the middle of removing Hallam’s chest piece. “What the hell did you just say?” she replied. Her face told the story. It was like Hallam had just announced that he and Dakota were long-lost brother and sister.

“I can’t explain it, Dak,” Hallam went on as Dakota continued to strip the armor from him. He couldn’t move his arms, which had started to go numb from the weight of the armor. “He was stood over me, ready to stomp me like a bug. Then he just stopped and looked, well… sad.”

Dakota snorted. “Sad? This is Cad Rikkard we’re talking about, right?”

Hallam was able to pull himself up and help Dakota remove the last pieces of armor. “I asked Rikkard why,” he replied, tearing one of the broken metal plates from his shin. “He said he didn’t have to explain anything to me. Then he went on his usual rant about being ‘the superior man.’ Honestly, I wish I could give you more, but I’m as in the dark as you are.”

Dakota removed the last large piece of Hallam’s armor then hauled him to his feet. Hallam felt almost naked without the armor, despite wearing his usual flight suit underneath.

“Do you think he’s actually going to activate the inverter?” said Dakota as Hallam flexed his tired and bruised arms and legs. An alarm then sounded inside the room, followed by an automated voice announcement.

“Explosive device detected in primary Randenite storage facility. All personnel are to immediately evacuate the Centrum. Repeat, all personnel are to immediately evacuate the Centrum.”

“I guess that means yes,” said Hallam while the announcement repeated.

“In that case, let’s get the hell out of here,” said Dakota, ushering Hallam toward the control room. “The enforcers all seem to have bugged out,” she continued, checking outside before hurrying into the room. “Either that or they’re already dead.”

Dakota headed in the direction of the corridor that she and Hallam had used to reach the control room, but Hallam then remembered the other thing that Cad Rikkard had said.

“Dak, wait, what happened to Alexis Black?” Hallam said, peering around the control room looking for her.

“She passed out after taking the last few hits from those Vanguard Enforcers,” said Dakota, sliding to a stop just short of the corridor. “Right after Cad Rikkard skewered Dexter Stone.”

Hallam had also forgotten that Cad had killed Stone and he almost smiled. “That’s two good deeds the asshole has done in a single day. It must be Christmas or something.” Then he recalled the promise he’d made and his mood sobered. “Is she still alive? Alexis, I mean?”

Dakota shrugged. “I don’t know. And why do you care? We have to go!”

Hallam moved through the control room toward where he last remembered seeing Alexis Black. “Because I made that asshole Rikkard a promise,” he said, stepping over the bodies of dead enforcers. “I promised I’d get her out, in return for him planting the inverter.”

Dakota threw her head back in despair. “Damn it, Hal, you pick your moments!”

Hallam finally saw Alexis. She was on her back, eyes closed and not moving. “A promise is a promise, Dak. Now are you going to help me or give me a hard time?”

Dakota growled. “Both…” she replied, running over to assist.

Hallam felt Alexis’ blood-smeared forehead and cheek. She was pale and her skin was clammy. Pressing his fingers to the mercenary’s neck, he found a pulse, which was beating rapidly.

“She might be in shock,” said Hallam, attempting to hoist Alexis up, though because of her armor, he failed miserably.

“That makes two of us,” replied Dakota, raising her eyebrows at Hallam sarcastically.

Hallam ignored the quip. He knew saving a mercenary that had tried to kill them on numerous occasions seemed like insanity, but he’d made a promise and was going to keep it.

“Get this armor off her,” said Hallam, trying to remember how the alien-derived armor worked from the time he’d worn it himself. Dakota was already ahead of him and had activated the command sequence to separate the two halves of the suit. Hallam pulled the top section off Alexis, while Dakota used her augmented strength to drag the mercenary out of the leg section. She then hoisted Alexis Black over her shoulder in a fireman’s carry.

“You know we should just let her blow up on this station along with her psychopath boyfriend, don’t you?” said Dakota, again taking the lead.

Hallam stooped to pick up one of the Vanguard Enforcer’s rifles and ran to catch up with Dakota. “The thought had crossed my mind…” replied Hallam, moving out in front, weapon raised.

“Well, if she wakes up and stabs me in the back, I’m going to be pissed,” Dakota continued as they weaved a reverse course though the lower levels of the Centrum toward the computer room.

“Noted…” said Hallam, turning a corner and coming face-to-face with two enforcers. The crack of his rifle almost caused Dakota to drop Alexis Black, but it was the two enforcers that fell to the deck instead.

“So much for evacuating…” said Hallam, stepping over the bodies and pushing open the door to the emergency stairwell.

“Mr. Knight, Miss Wulfrun, are you still will us?” came the voice of Dr. Rand in Hallam’s ear. He’d completely forgotten she was still on the other end of the comm channel.

“I’m here, Doc,” said Hallam, “I lost you for a while when I was inside the refinery core.”

“Did you do it? Is the inverter in place?” said Dr. Rand, sounding breathless.

“It’s a long story, Doc, but the short version is that the device has been planted,” replied Hallam. He kicked open the door at the bottom of the stairwell and moved outside. A solitary enforcer was running along the corridor toward him. Spotting Hallam, the man raised his weapon, but Hallam had already taken a shot and put the enforcer down.

“Mr. Knight, are you still there?” said Dr. Rand, still breathless.

“Barely…” replied Hallam. “We’re close, only a couple of minutes away from you. And we’re bringing a package of our own.”

“Do I want to know?” replied Dr. Rand, suddenly resuming her disappointed-sounding, scholarly tone.

“Trust me, you don’t,” Dakota shouted out, causing Hallam to scowl back at her.

They reached the computer room without Hallam needing to fire another shot. He’d seen five or six other enforcers in the corridors, but they’d all been running in the opposite direction, and none had paid him or Dakota any attention. Hallam burst through into the computer control room, startling Felix Hanson, Dr. Rand’s latest renegade recruit. Dakota then swept computer terminals and other office equipment off a table and lay Alexis Black down on it.

“I take it there is an explanation for this?” said Dr. Rand, moving away from her computer and staring down at the unconscious mercenary.

“Don’t ask…” said Dakota.

“I made a promise, Doc,” said Hallam, cutting to the chase. “We need to take her with us. Assuming she’s not already dead, that is?”

Dr. Rand turned to Felix Hanson. “Do you have an emergency medical kit I can use, please?”

Felix Hanson nodded and scurried away, throwing open the doors of various cabinets until he found a green box with a white cross on it.

“I’ll get the ship ready to detach,” said Dakota, moving toward the computer core. Then she stopped and cursed. “Damn, I forgot that place is colder than Cad Rikkard’s heart.”

Dakota opened the door the computer core and an icy blast flooded the room. “I’ll see you in the ship,” she said before aiming a finger at Hallam specifically. “Don’t be long…” Then she entered the computer core and closed the door.

Hallam watched Dakota disappear through the emergency access hatch that led into their heavy fighter and turned back to Dr. Rand. “How is she, Doc?” he asked, though he was more concerned about keeping his promise than he was for Alexis Black’s welfare.

“She will need a number of surgical procedures, but she’ll live,” said Dr. Rand, administering the last of four injections. She had also placed temporary bandages onto the mercenary’s more severe wounds, which had stopped the bleeding.

“Will she be able to get into the ship?” asked Hallam, glancing anxiously toward the corridors outside in case any enforcers showed up.

“Quite why you want to bring her, I don’t know,” began Dr. Rand, but before Hallam could begin to give his reasons, she added, “but I’ll give her a stimulant. It will be enough to keep her active until I can properly tend to her wounds.”

Hallam then saw Felix Hanson approaching with four pairs of thick, insulated coveralls. “We wear these when working inside the core,” said Felix throwing the coveralls down on the table next to Alexis.

Dr. Rand administered the stimulant then eagerly picked up one of the sets of coveralls. “Thank you, Mr. Hanson. These are much needed,” she said, pulling the coveralls on.

Suddenly, Alexis Black shot up like a mousetrap springing into action and screamed. Before he could act, the mercenary had grabbed Hallam by the collar and pulled him closer, her eyes wild.

“Where’s Cad?” she yelled, showering Hallam with spittle. “If you’ve killed him!” she went on, sliding her hands up from Hallam’s collar and onto his neck. Dr. Rand and Felix Hanson helped to prize Alexis’ hands away, but then she suddenly grew weak again and her grip relaxed on its own. Hallam caught her before she slipped off the table and onto the floor.

“I don’t have time to explain,” said Hallam, pushing Alexis up and meeting her confused, stormy eyes. “But Cad isn’t here. He went into the refinery core,” Hallam continued, causing Alexis to recoil back from him. “He beat me, but then left me alive and chose to plant the device Dr. Rand built to destroy this place.”

“You lie!” Alexis hit back, slapping Hallam’s hands away. “He wouldn’t leave me.”

Hallam took a step back from the mercenary, feeling like he’d already survived putting his head inside a lion’s mouth. “Look, I don’t know why he did it, but he made me promise to get you out. So that’s what I’m doing.”

Alexis jumped off the table, and Hallam backed away again, raising his rifle at her. Dr. Rand and Felix swiftly moved behind him.

“He wouldn’t leave me,” Alexis repeated, her face twisted with pain and hatred. “He said he’d come back for me. We were finishing this together.”

Hallam aimed the weapon off Alexis’ side and raised a hand, trying to appear less threatening. “Look, Alexis, we have about ten minutes to get clear of this station before it goes up like a damn supernova,” Hallam said. He’d lost patience with the mercenary already but was determined to make her see sense. “So get on the damn ship while there’s still time.”

Alexis Black shook her head and backed away. “No, he wouldn’t leave me. You’re lying!” she cried again, then turned and ran out of the door. Hallam went after her, but Dr. Rand caught his arm.

“She’s made her choice, Hallam,” the scientist said. It was the use of his given name more than anything else that stopped Hallam in his tracks. “If you go after her now, you’ll die too.”

Hallam hesitated, torn between fulfilling his promise and saving his own skin. However, Dr. Rand was right – Alexis Black had made her choice. Hallam growled and dropped the rifle before throwing one of the sets of coveralls at Felix Hanson.

“Okay, let’s get the hell out of here,” he said, also pulling on one of the insulated one-piece garments.

Hallam ushered Dr. Rand and Felix into the computer core and waited for them to descend into the heavy fighter before following himself. Just before closing the top hatch, he cast one more look out toward the computer room, but Alexis Black was nowhere to be seen. Pulling the hatch closed, he slid down the staircase and practically fell inside the heavy fighter. Dakota was already strapped in and the engines were running.

“Where the hell is she?” Dakota called out from the cockpit.

“Don’t ask…” Hallam replied, closing and sealing the fighter’s docking port, then running into the cockpit and jumping into the second seat.

Hallam could see that Dakota was desperate to say “I told you so,” but she bit her tongue and checked that Dr. Rand and Felix were strapped in instead.

“It looks like the evacuation alert has caused all of the CSF ships to bug out,” said Dakota, looking relieved. “I have escape coordinates Rand One programmed in, assuming these are still correct?” she continued, while detaching from the Centrum.

“They are still correct, thank you,” replied Dr. Rand, displaying more of her customary calm under pressure.

Felix Hanson then leant toward Hallam, holding a tablet computer in his outstretched hand.

“I still have a security feed from inside the Centrum,” said Felix, mopping his brow with the sleeve of his coveralls. “I think you might want to see this.”

Hallam took the tablet and frowned down at it. On the screen was a fuzzy image of the Randenite refinery control room, which was littered with dead bodies. However, in the center was Alexis Black. She was on her knees, holding the samurai sword that Cad Rikkard had used to such devastating effect in her hands.

“What it is, Hal?” said Dakota, glancing across at Hallam.

Hallam watched as Alexis took the sword and turned it on herself, pressing the tip of the blade below her breastbone.

“Hal?” Dakota repeated as the heavy fighter pushed away from the Centrum.

Hallam still said nothing and merely watched as Alexis thrust the sword into her own flesh, driving the tip of the blade into her heart. He forced down a dry swallow then turned off the tablet and handed it back to Felix Hanson.

“It’s over, Dak,” he said, turning to Dakota. “It’s over.”

33

Dakota dropped the heavy fighter out of bridge space at the coordinates Dr. Rand had explicitly requested. Their new location put them in close proximity to a Darkspace BridgeNet relay, one hundred and fifty million kilometers from the Centrum. Despite the enormous distance, the journey had taken them only a matter of seconds to traverse via bridge space.

In their original plan, escaping from the Centrum had required Commander Rivas and the 303-Squadron to bridge in and create a diversion. They were to attack the CSF Enforcer patrols and divert attention from the heavy fighter, as it quietly slipped away. However, in the end, the 303 hadn’t been needed. With an evacuation underway, the Centrum’s minefield and sentry turrets had been temporarily disabled, and the enforcer patrols had already bridged away. It reminded Hallam of rats jumping from a sinking ship.

“It’s a shame Commander Rivas and the three-oh-three didn’t get to see this,” said Dakota, as if he’d been reading Hallam’s thoughts.

“The pilots escaped,” said Dr. Rand wistfully. “Hopefully, Commander Rivas did also.”

The navigation computer bleeped a series of urgent alerts and Hallam read the data, his heart thumping in his chest, fearing an enforcer attack. However, when he saw the transponder IDs flash up on the screen, he laughed.

“Speak of the devil,” said Hallam, opening a comm channel and putting it through on the main speakers.

“I hope we’re not too late,” said the voice of Commander Rivas.

Dakota also read the data and smiled at Hallam. All eight fighters from 303-Squadron had bridged in, along with the escape shuttle from Commander Rivas’ base.

“It took us a while to hammer the dings out of the base after Rikkard and his lunatic friend took off after you,” Commander Rivas continued. “The question is, are we here to witness the end of the world, or did you actually pull off this crazy stunt?”

Dr. Rand pulled on a headset and adjusted the mic. “I believe we’re all about to find out,” she said. The doctor then paused for a moment and closed her eyes. “It’s good to hear your voice, Elena,” Dr. Rand added, the scientist’s voice trembling as she spoke the words.

“You too, Shelby,” said Commander Rivas with the expected authority and robustness of a military commander. “I hope you’ve put on a good fireworks show for us.”

The comm channel went silent while the last of the Darkspace Renegades waited, staring into the blackness of space in the direction of the Centrum. The anticipation was almost unbearable, but Hallam didn’t have to wait for long before a sudden flash of brilliant white light forced him to look away and shield his eyes. It was like suddenly flicking on a light switch in a pitch-black room. When he peered out of the cockpit glass again, Hallam saw a swirling ball of red energy as large as a full moon viewed from Earth, but twice as bright. It swirled, creating a crimson vortex, like bright red paint flowing down a drain.

“That’s something you don’t see every day,” said Hallam, mesmerized by the spectacle.

Dr. Rand smiled at Hallam and raised her eyebrows. “As I mentioned to you previously, Mr. Knight, you haven’t seen anything yet…”

The scientist was as mysterious as ever, but this time, Hallam didn’t mind. He glanced at Dakota, who just shrugged and went back to watching the unique phenomenon. Then from the center of the vortex, whip-like tendrils of energy shot out into space in dozens of different directions. One flashed past the small fleet of renegade ships, intersecting the BridgeNet relay in the distance, but flowing through it and around it as if the huge space antenna wasn’t there at all. New branches of energy then shot off like arrows in four other directions, piercing the darkness for as far as Hallam could see.

“What the hell…” Hallam said out loud, staring back at the anomaly again, wide-eyed. Then it dawned on him what he was seeing. “Are these paths of light the bridges?” he asked, turning back to Dr. Rand.

“Very good, Mr. Knight,” the scientist replied in her customary scholarly tone. Her eyes were fixed on her palm computer, which she’d interfaced with the BridgeNet relay. “These are indeed all of the permanent bridges that were ever created, either to carry data or vessels. Although if my readings are correct, soon they will no longer exist.”

Dakota spun her seat around to face Dr. Rand. “So it’s working?” she asked, unable to contain the excitement in her voice. “The damage to the bridges is being repaired?”

Dr. Rand glanced up from her screen. She was still smiling, though her expression was more solemn. “I’m afraid repairing them is beyond my ability at this stage, Miss Wulfrun,” she said, meeting Dakota’s eyes then staring at the anomaly. “All of these bridges will be sealed permanently.”

Dakota sighed and swiveled her chair back toward the mass of swirling light. She knew the ramifications of what they’d done, just as Hallam did. They’d prevented one calamity, only to replace it will with another, albeit one that was significantly less severe. With the bridges sealed, all interplanetary travel and communications would be severed instantly. Any families or loved ones that were separated on different worlds would never see one another again. And each world would have to adapt to fend for itself. For some planets, the transition would be easier than others. Hallam couldn’t imagine what the next few weeks, months, and years would be like for those trapped on the remaining outer bridge worlds. However, every planet would suffer. Each world depended on the others, to a greater or lesser extent. Each planet – and each and every one of their inhabitants – would have to adapt. A great many of them would not survive. Hallam had always known and accepted this, but it was still a bitter pill to swallow. Yet, through the struggles that lay ahead, humanity would at least live on. The Darkspace Renegades had given the worlds that remained a chance. Perhaps it was even a chance to do better. A world without the all-corrupting power of Damien Doyle, Dexter Stone, and the Consortium had to be worth fighting for, he thought to himself.

“Hell of a show, doctor,” said Commander Rivas over the comm channel. Hallam had forgotten that they’d left it open. “Just to let you know that we only have fuel enough to generate one more temporary bridge transition. So the big question is, where do we go from here?”

Dr. Rand turned off her palm computer and placed it into a storage compartment in front of her seat. She was staring into space, though not at the swirling anomaly, which to Hallam’s eyes already seemed to be dimming in brilliance.

“I see two options,” said Dr. Rand, still staring into the Darkspace. “You and your pilots can use the fuel you have to travel to the planets of your choosing. Perhaps you have loved ones or family you wish to be reunited with.”

“And the second option?” asked Commander Rivas, sounding as curious as Hallam was to learn the genius scientist’s alternative.

“You can travel with me and return to the moon where my hideout was based,” Dr. Rand replied, her eyes suddenly meeting Hallam’s. “I admit, there is not much to recommend about the world, now that the base is destroyed, but it possesses the resources needed to survive.”

The comm channel went silent for a moment. Then Commander Rivas voice came over the speakers again. “You don’t have to force yourself into exile, Shelby,” the commander said. There was a heartfeltness to her voice that Hallam had never heard before.

Dr. Rand sighed and smiled again. “Perhaps not, but there is no place for me on Earth or any of the remaining worlds. Not anymore.”

“I’ll let the squadron know that they’re free to go where they please,” said Commander Rivas. “They can make up their own minds. They’ve earned it. We all have. Rivas, out.”

Silence again fell over the cabin of the heavy fighter. Despite the incredible victory they had just secured, it felt like they were attending a funeral. Suddenly, Dr. Rand slapped her thighs, and the sharp crack caused Hallam to jolt back and bang his head on the cockpit glass.

“Well, Mr. Knight and Miss Wulfrun, it’s time for you two to decide where you want to go,” said Dr. Rand, suddenly strangely jolly. In fact, she was jollier than Hallam had ever seen her, and it made him nervous. He was used to her more stoic and disappointed demeaner. “This fighter has enough Randenite to make a couple of trips back to the bridge worlds. So you can go wherever you please. Then I’m afraid I must commandeer this ship for myself and be on my way.”

Hallam rubbed the back of his head and looked at Dakota. She was grinning, evidently having spotted Hallam’s earlier mishap. Realizing he wasn’t going to get a serious answer from her just yet, he turned back to Dr. Rand.

“Hell, Doc, I don’t belong on any of the bridge worlds either,” Hallam said, only realizing this fact in that very moment. “I’ve got nowhere to go, and nowhere I want to go.”

Dakota reached over and rubbed the back of Hallam’s head, winking at him, before she too turned to Dr. Rand.

“Same here, Dr. Rand,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t have any family, and none of the bridge worlds have ever really felt like home to me.”

Dr. Rand thought for a moment then opened her mouth, but hesitated. It seemed to Hallam that she was contemplating whether to reveal a secret, or perhaps even make an embarrassing request. However, when the scientist finally spoke up, he was surprised to find it was neither.

“If you wish, you could come with me to the moon,” she said, looking down at the deck of the fighter. “It would be hard living to begin with, but there are parts of the world that are beautiful too.”

Hallam smiled. “A fresh start sounds pretty good to me, Doc,” he replied. Then he glanced at Dakota, and he could see that she felt the same way.

“I’m game, though I have two conditions,” said Dakota.

Dr. Rand’s eyes widened, clearly surprised by the request. “If they are within my power to grant you, then I will, Miss Wulfrun,” she said.

“Number one, you have to make Bob the bear an official resident too,” said Dakota, patting the ragged stuffed toy on the head.

Dr. Rand scowled. “I believe I am able to accommodate that rather ridiculous request…” she replied a little huffily. “And the second condition?”

Dakota’s smiled widened. “The second is that you help me to build a boxing ring,” she said, causing Hallam to laugh out loud. “If I’m going to spend the rest of my life on a distant moon, I’m going to need ways to pass the time. And kicking Hallam’s ass seems like a good way to do it.”

“You wish,” Hallam snorted.

Dr. Rand rolled her eyes. “I believe both of your rather facile conditions can be accommodated, Miss Wulfrun,” she replied before again becoming more earnest. “Though do not be under the illusion that this moon will be your permanent home. It is not my intention to sit idly on my hands. I still have much work to do. Work that you can hopefully assist me with.”

“What do you have in mind, Doc?” said Hallam, intrigued by the scientist’s customarily enigmatic statement.

“All in good time, Mr. Knight,” Dr. Rand replied, though this time, the sparkle in the scientist’s eyes told Hallam that she was being knowingly secretive. Dr. Rand then turned to Felix Hanson, who had been observing the exchange with intense curiosity. “And what about you, Mr. Hanson?” she asked. “Where would like us to drop you off?”

The former CSF computer engineer pressed his hands together and rubbed his knuckles nervously. “If it’s all the same to you, Dr. Rand, I’d like to assist with your work,” he said, staring down at the deck. “Perhaps my skills can be of use?”

The response seemed to surprise Dr. Rand. “You do realize that this is more than a mere job placement, Mr. Hanson?” she said. “You will be stuck with us.”

Felix Hanson finally met the scientist’s eyes. “Like you, I don’t have anyone,” he said dolefully. “And after years spent working in the depths of the Centrum computer core, I’m actually game for an adventure,” he added, smiling.

“If you come with us, there is no going back, Mr. Hanson,” Dr. Rand replied, remaining stern. “Do not undertake this decision lightly.”

“I’m not,” the engineer said. “I’ve done more things of worth in the last two hours than in my entire life, and I want to do more. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to come.”

“Very well then, it’s agreed,” said Dr. Rand, turning to Dakota. “We should get going.”

“I’ll set a course, assuming I can remember the way,” said Dakota, turning back to the controls.

“The course is already programmed in,” said Dr. Rand, causing Hallam and Dakota to stare back at her, wide eyed. The scientist then shrugged and added, “I had a feeling – or at least a hope – that some or all of you might come along.”

Hallam laughed then peered out at the anomaly, which was slowly fading away to nothing in the distance. The whine of the heavy fighter’s unique Shelby Drive began to build, then Dakota turned the nose of the vessel away from the anomaly and out into the Darkspace. Seconds later, the cockpit was engulfed in a swirling mass of red light. Once again, the Darkspace Renegades had entered the mysterious sub-dimension of space, en route to a distant world. What lay ahead of them was as uncertain as the fate of the bridge worlds. Yet, for some reason, Hallam felt more hopeful than he had ever felt in his entire life. And in his heart, he knew that this would not be the last time the Darkspace Renegades took flight.

The end.

Epilogue 1

The sun was beginning to set below the horizon, turning the moon’s usually azure sky to a marmalade orange. Hallam rested back on the bench that he and Dakota had carved from a tree they’d felled on top of their favorite hill. Dakota was leaning up on his shoulder, chewing on a sweet-tasting root that grew in the woodlands nearby. The moon was beautiful, as Dr. Rand had promised it could be. However, she had also been correct about life being hard, at least to begin with. Now, however, five years since their arrival on the moon that they had named Terminus, Hallam couldn’t imagine living any other way. The life he’d led prior to his chance encounter with the Darkspace Renegades seemed like a distant memory, or perhaps a half-remembered dream. Yet the bridge worlds were always there at the back of his mind, like the whistling sound in your ears that never truly went away.

“Mr. Knight?” Hallam heard Dr. Rand call out from the settlement at the base of the hill behind them. “Miss Wulfrun? Are you two up there?”

Dakota laughed and hugged Hallam more tightly. “You’d think after five years, she’d have gotten around to using our first names,” she said as Hallam smoothed the hair from her eyes.

“I don’t know, I think it would be pretty weird if she started calling me ‘Hal’ and you ‘Dak’,” Hallam replied. “I prefer the formality. It seems more normal somehow.”

Dakota pushed herself off Hallam then sucker-punched him in the gut. It wasn’t a hard shot, but the fact that Hallam had been entirely unprepared for it still stole the wind from his lungs.

“Normal, like how I keep beating your ass, you mean?” said Dakota before kissing Hallam on the forehead and standing up.

“You’re only number one in the settlement boxing league because Ramirez tripped over his shoelace and fell during your last match,” said Hallam, rubbing his stomach and staring down at the settlement. “We have a match next week and then you’ll see who the real champ is.”

“Big talk. Let’s see if you can back it up…” replied Dakota, still smiling.

“Mr. Knight, are you ignoring me?” called Dr. Rand from the foot of the hill.

Hallam snorted a laugh. “On my way, Doc,” he shouted back before turning to Dakota again. “She’s a damn slave driver, though. My head hurts more from all the bridge drive theory lessons and training she gives me than from any punch I’ve taken in the ring.”

Dakota hooked her arm though Hallam’s and together they starting walking down the hill toward the settlement. Arranged in a circle around the perimeter were the eight renegades space fighters formerly belonging to the 303-Squadron. All of the pilots had chosen to follow Dr. Rand to the newest – and last – bridge world. The ships were no longer capable of flight, having been converted into various different facilities, ranging from kitchens to laundry areas, clinics, and more. In the center of the circle was the shuttle flown by Commander Rivas, which had also contained the other survivors from the commander’s base. Like the 303-Squadron fighters, the shuttle no longer flew, but as a larger and more long-range craft, it provided vital resources, including water purification and more.

Dotted around the relics of their old lives were a number of wooden huts and stone structures. Some of them had already been abandoned in favor of newer constructions, as the occupants of the settlement developed and perfected their crafts. It was an odd juxtaposition of old and new, but somehow it worked. In many ways, Hallam would have preferred to leave the trappings of their former lives behind completely, but he couldn’t deny that the old renegades ships had offered much needed creature comforts, especially during the first few months after they had arrived on the moon. Next to the shuttle was the heavy fighter, which though stripped out to make best use of the internal space, was the only vessel that remained capable of flight. Dr. Rand had been typically vague in her reasons for this, but no one questioned her – she was still the leader of their little band, after all.

“Ah, there you both are,” said Dr. Rand, adopting her teacherly tone. “You do realize that just because we are outside the old, formal structures of society, it does not mean you can shirk off from your responsibilities.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Doc,” said Hallam, smiling. The scientist’s affectionately condescending tone was a welcome slice of normality in an alien environment, and Hallam wouldn’t change it for anything.

“Good, then I’ll see you in the workshop presently,” said Dr. Rand. “Don’t be late,” she added while wagging a finger at him. Dr. Rand then turned to leave but paused and glanced back at Dakota. “I have two laundry shifts riding on your win tonight, Miss Wulfrun. Please do not disappoint.” Dakota laughed and threw up a lazy salute. Then Dr. Rand departed, climbing the ramp of the shuttle that also doubled as the scientist’s laboratory.

“I guess it’s back to work, then,” said Hallam with an acquiescent shrug.

“Go do your science thing,” said Dakota, shoving him away. She then immediately grabbed Hallam around the waist and pulled him close, kissing him on the lips. “I’ll see you later?”

“I don’t think you’ll have much of a choice,” he said, again smoothing her hair away from her eyes. “I can hardly hide from you around here,” he added, gesturing to their compact colony. The intimate size of their settlement had meant that the last of the Darkspace Renegades had gelled and became a family – the only family Hallam had ever really known. Hallam kissed Dakota and turned toward Dr. Rand’s laboratory, ready for his next lesson in bridge drive theory.

“Hey, do you miss it?” Dakota called out as Hallam reached the foot of the ramp. “The bridge worlds, I mean. And all the excitement?”

Hallam thought for a moment then shrugged. “I don’t miss getting shot at, or having some crazed mercenary try to stab me with a sword at every available opportunity,” he began to a roll of eyes from Dakota. “But yes, part of me does miss it.”

“Do you think we’ll ever go back?” asked Dakota. The way she had posed the question intrigued Hallam. It felt like she was asking if he wanted to.

“Maybe one day. Who knows,” replied Hallam. He’d tried to sound like he’d never contemplated the idea before, though in truth, he’d thought about returning almost every day since the Centrum had exploded. He wanted to know that the bridge worlds had adapted and survived, maybe even thrived. However, it also felt like they had unfinished business. They’d destroyed something that had been vital to life in the interplanetary community that had developed over the last century. And despite the need to have done it, in some ways, Hallam felt like it was their responsibility to fix it again. Then he realized he’d never asked Dakota how she felt about returning. “How about you, Dak. Would you want to go back?”

“Someday, when we’re ready,” replied Dakota. Then she smiled again. “But not yet. I’m still not done with you here.”

Dr. Rand’s authoritative voice droned out from inside the vessel, calling for Hallam. It sounded like the scientist was taking a class register, except there was only one name on it.

“Duty calls,” said Hallam, hooking a thumb toward the ship.

Dakota waved a hand at him, like she was shooing away an annoying pigeon, then turned and headed back to the hill they’d climbed down earlier. Hallam leant up against the side of the ship and watched her go. From the moment they’d met, being with Dakota had just felt right, even when they were fighting and challenging one another to silly contests. Even when she was whipping his ass with a wet towel in the shower. He was glad that the last of the Darkspace Renegades had all gathered together on Dr. Rand’s little moon, but equally, he would have been happy just with Dakota. It didn’t matter where he was, so long as they were together. And for some reason, he had a feeling that Terminus would not be where they stayed for the rest of their lives. Their adventure was not over yet. Perhaps, he thought to himself as Dakota stole a last glance back to him, it had only just begun.

Epilogue 2

A crowd gathered around the small TV screen as the owner of the bar switched the channel over to the Falken News Network. The chatter quickly died down as the presenter appeared on screen beside the inset image of a space craft hovering above the capital city on Liber.

“We now have a clear sighting of the unidentified vessel above the city,” the news reporter began, frantically shuffling pages of A4 paper on the desk in front of her. She paused, pressing a finger to her ear as information was relayed in real-time. “We don’t have all the facts yet, but I’m told that the occupants have made contact. This is really quite unbelievable,” the anchor went on, taking a sip of water to wet her lips. “For the first time in the forty-three years since the interstellar bridges collapsed, we’ve had contact with someone from another world. And if the reports I’m receiving are correct, the people on that ship are Hallam Knight and Dakota Wulfrun. As many of you will remember, these were the so-called Darkspace Renegades that destroyed the Centrum and stopped this world from being destroyed by a gravitational anomaly.”

The chatter in the bar built to a roar before the bartender slapped his hand on the wooden counter to quiet everyone down again.

“This just in…” the newscaster said as someone off camera thrust a new bundle of papers at her. “I have a short message to read, which was transmitted from the space ship only seconds ago,” the woman continued, taking another sip of water. She then picked up the papers, which quivered in her shaking hands. “The message reads as follows…” The newscaster cleared her throat then read from the trembling sheet of paper in front of her. “People of Liber. Forty-three years ago, we were forced to seal the bridges that linked your planet to the galactic community of worlds. We did this so that you would survive. Now we offer you the chance to reach beyond your world once more. Dr. Shelby Rand is dead, but she leaves behind a gift, which we will present to all the bridge worlds. It is the gift of freedom. Contained within the data we have transmitted are the secrets to safe and sustainable bridge travel. This knowledge is free to all who wish to use it. Use it well or not at all. The choice is yours. Maybe one day, we’ll see you again out in the stars. But whatever your choice, we wish you well. With love and warm wishes from your interstellar neighbors, the Darkspace Renegades.”

FROM THE PUBLISHER

Thank you for reading Darkspace Renegade, book one in Darkspace Renegade.

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ALSO IN THE SERIES

Darkspace Renegade

Wolf Squadron

Rogue World

Rikkard’s Revenge

Renegade Resurgence

Centrum Incursion

Also by GJ Ogden

If you enjoyed this book, please consider reading The Star Scavenger Series or The Contingency War Series Both are free to read for Kindle Unlimited subscribers and available as Audible boxed sets.

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THE CONTINGENCY WAR SERIES

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About the Author

At school, I was asked to write down the jobs I wanted to do as a "grown up". Number one was astronaut and number two was a PC games journalist. I only managed to achieve one of those goals (I’ll let you guess which), but these two very different career options still neatly sum up my lifelong interests in science, space, and the unknown.

School also steered me in the direction of a science-focused education over literature and writing, which influenced my decision to study physics at Manchester University. What this degree taught me is that I didn’t like studying physics and instead enjoyed writing, which is why you’re reading this book! The lesson? School can’t tell you who you are.

When not writing, I enjoy spending time with my family, walking in the British countryside, and indulging in as much Sci-Fi as possible.

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