RIKKARD’S REVENGE

©2020 GJ OGDEN

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Contents

ALSO IN THE SERIES

Acknowledgments

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

FROM THE PUBLISHER

ALSO IN THE SERIES

Also by GJ Ogden

Readers' Favorite, 5-stars

About the Author

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ALSO IN THE SERIES

Darkspace Renegade

Wolf Squadron

Rogue World

Rikkard’s Revenge

Renegade Resurgence

Centrum Incursion

The interstellar bridges provide a lifeline for billions of people. To save humanity, Hallam Knight must tear them all down.

Acknowledgments

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

Thanks to Sarah for her work assessing and editing this novel, and to those who subscribed to my newsletters and provided such valuable feedback.

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Other Sci-Fi series by G J Ogden:

The Planetsider Trilogy

The Contingency War Series

The Star Scavenger Series

1

Whether in the flames of nuclear fury or through the brutal application of Cad Rikkard’s sword, Dr. Shelby Rand’s renegade hideouts and outposts had been crushed by the Blackfire Squadron. Yet the leader of the Darkspace Renegades had evaded Cad. And still there was no sign of Hallam Knight or Dakota Wulfrun. However, with each outpost and hideout that fell, Cad knew he was drawing closer to his quarry. It was only a matter of time before his reforged Black Prince sword was wet with the blood of the Wolf Squadron renegades. Sooner or later, one of the renegade sympathizers would point him in the direction of Rand and the others. And if not, he’d simply move on to the next outpost or hideout, and then the next, and the next, until finally, there was nowhere left for them to hide.

Cad’s current target was on the mineral planet, Liber. It had been identified and fed through to Cad by his hacker accomplice Falken. The outpost was actually a mineral processing plant that was owned by an anonymous company. However, “anonymous” wasn’t a concept that seemed to faze the genius hacker. Falken had managed to find links between the plant and other similar “anonymous” companies that Falken had also discovered harbored renegade outposts. However, despite the hacker’s skill at discovering information that was supposedly secret, she had still been unable to locate Shelby Rand’s personal hideout. This left the Blackfire Squadron with no option but to continue their bloody reign of terror.

Cad Rikkard drove his foot into the door of the renegade outpost building, smashing it off its hinges with a single powerful kick from his armored boot. The door collided with a renegade that had been waiting, weapon in hand, a few meters behind it, killing him instantly. Reforged Black Prince sword in hand, Cad stormed through the opening and was assaulted with a barrage of small arms fire. However, the bullets merely deflected harmlessly off his armor, just as they had done on the other renegade outposts he’d assaulted and wiped out. Armed renegades ran at Cad as he marched imperiously into the building, and he brought his sword down on the closest attacker. The power of the blow cut the man in half down to his navel. Cad pulled the blade clear and marveled at the savagery of his own assault. He had still to get used to the lethality of his newly reforged blade, constructed from a composite of Draga Vex’s power armor and hull plating from his fighter. Raising his eyes from the blood-stained, steel-gray blade, Cad saw that the two other renegades inside the building were similarly awed by the sight of their fallen comrade. They both backed away as if Cad was the devil himself, come to claim their souls.

“Stay where you are, or I’ll use this!” cried one of the two remaining renegades. The man was holding a grenade above his head, and Cad could see from the circle of red light around the base that it had been armed. However, the renegade was standing only a few meters from Cad, making it obvious that he would not follow through on his threat.

“Drop that and you’ll just blow yourself to pieces, you fool,” replied Cad, continuing his measured pace toward the man, untroubled by the renegade’s threat. “Just tell me where the leader of your little cell is and you both can run off home.”

The second of the two renegades was fumbling with his pistol, frantically trying to slap a new magazine into the grip. Four more attempts later, and the renegade finally succeeded in loading the weapon. However, before the man could raise the pistol in anger, Cad had swung the Black Prince sword. A second later, the renegade’s arm thudded into the ground, severed clean off below the elbow. The man screamed, as much from shock as from pain, but his cries were quickly silenced as Cad drove his fist into the renegade’s shrieking face, crushing his nose and cheekbones as easily as egg shells.

“Don’t be stupid like he was,” said Cad, pointing toward the dead man, whose blood was pouring like wine onto the concrete floor of the building. “Just tell me where your leader is, and you can go. I don’t care about you. I want Rand and the Wolf Squadron.”

The man’s eyes trembled at the sight of his fallen comrade before revulsion compelled him to look away. The renegade then stabbed a finger toward the far corner of the building. “He’s in the office on the mezzanine level,” the man blabbed, pressing his knuckles to his mouth as if trying not to vomit. The renegade then placed the grenade on the floor and timidly met Cad’s eyes. “I told you what you wanted, now please let me go,” the man added.

The renegade’s pleas revolted Cad far more than the bloody mess of flesh and bone he’d left on the deck. Cad grunted and nodded to the man, who then began to edge past him, hands raised, making a bee line for the door Cad had kicked in moments earlier. Suddenly, Cad saw a flash of red in his peripheral vision, and his eyes fell on the grenade sitting on the floor in front of him. He huffed a laugh, realizing that the renegade had activated the explosive before setting it down. “Not such a fool after all,” Cad said to himself, picking up the grenade and noting that its fuse had ten seconds remaining. The renegade was already outside, running as if he were being chased by a pack of rabid wolves. Cad stepped through the door, judging the wind direction and strength from the breeze that washed across his face, then threw the grenade. It sailed through the air in a perfect parabola, struck the man on the back of the neck and detonated, splattering the renegade’s remains across the tarmac. Cad grunted. He’d impressed even himself with the accuracy of his throw.

Cad entered the building again and turned toward the office on the mezzanine level where the renegade had said the outpost leader was hiding. Outside, he could hear the crack of Alexis’ Five-Seven-Seven pistols as she took care of the remaining renegades while they tried to flee the doomed outpost. He stopped in the middle of a cluster of desks, all of which had been hastily abandoned once the attack had begun, and peered up at the mezzanine office. The lights inside it were off and it too looked abandoned. This was despite the renegade, who was now a splat on the tarmac, claiming the outpost’s leader was inside.

“Alexis, did you eyeball anyone fleeing through the south exit of the administration building?” Cad said through the comm system in his suit.

“Not that I saw, no,” she said as the crack of her pistols continued to ring out. “Most of the them out here are either dead or have already run. Maybe this place is a bust after all.”

Cad grunted and peered up at the office again, wishing that he’d chosen to wear his helmet so that he could make use of its augmented visual sensors. “Stand by, I have one more location to check out,” said Cad, moving toward the staircase leading up to the mezzanine.

Cad’s boot had barely landed on the first step before a window smashed in the mezzanine office and the barrel of a rifle was thrust out. There wasn’t a weapon in existence that Cad didn’t know or hadn’t used, and he immediately recognized the design of the MX19 assault rifle. Unlike the sidearms the other renegades had used, Cad also he knew that this weapon was capable of penetrating his armored cocoon. Flipping one of the metal desks onto its side, Cad ducked down behind it as the renegade opened fire on his exposed position. He felt the punch of a bullet land on his shoulder, but other than a dent and a scratch, he was unhurt.

“Just make this easy on yourself,” Cad called out to his ambusher. “Throw down the rifle and no one else has to die.” Cad had no intention of sparing the renegade, but he considered that offering mercy was worth a try. However, the renegade responded only with another volley of rifle fire, which thudded harmlessly into the metal desk.

“We’re just getting started, Rikkard!” a male voice snarled through the window. “Let’s see how you handle this…”

A panel in the end wall underneath the mezzanine level was punched out into the room, and Cad watched as an armed robotic system trundled out of concealment. It was basically a mobile gun turret on caterpillar tracks that seemed to have been adapted from a common mining bot.

Cad smiled. Finally, a challenge… he thought as the turret on the bot angled toward him. He ran out from behind the upturned metal desk a split-second before cannon rounds punched through it like pellets through a paper bag. The turret tracked him as he pressed himself up behind a support pillar, which offered sturdier protection from the bot’s powerful weapon, as well as from the renegade’s rifle. Cad knew that he could likely withstand several hits from the cannon, but he didn’t want to risk injury. With only him and Alexis left after Draga’s death on Doyle’s rogue world, Cad had been forced to act more cautiously. And caution was not the Blackfire Squadron’s modus operandi.

“Alexis, I need you to deal with a bot problem,” said Cad while sliding the Black Prince sword back into its scabbard. Cannon rounds thudded into the metal and gouged chunks out of the concrete floor inches to either side of him.

“What kind of bot problem?” Alexis replied, still to the backdrop of her Five-Seven-Sevens.

Cad edged around the pillar as the armed bot moved in an attempt to get an angle on him. All the while, computer consoles exploded and office furniture was obliterated as bullets continued to rain down all around him.

“The sort of bot problem that involves a twenty-millimeter cannon,” said Cad.

“On it…” came the reply from Alexis. There was no hint of the mercenary’s usual playfulness or irreverence. This was the cold-hearted warrior version of Alexis in full effect and Cad need her now more than ever.

Suddenly, Cad felt the thump of bullets landing on his armor, and he realized that the armed bot had driven into the renegade’s line of fire. Growling and rapidly losing patience, Cad leapt over another desk and rolled behind a heavy metal cabinet to avoid fire from both the bot and the office window. Then Cad had an idea. Lifting the cabinet off the ground, he advanced toward the machine. Cannon shells thudded into the metal, with some cutting clean through the cabinet and landing on Cad’s armor. However, the cabinet and its contents had absorbed enough energy from the bullets to take away their deadly sting. When he was confident he was in range, Cad hurled the cabinet at the bot, crushing the barrel of the machine’s cannon into the concrete floor. Drawing his Black Prince again, Cad drove the blade through its gears and inner workings, rendering the lethal machine inert.

Another shot rang out from the office, and Cad was sure he felt it rush past his face. Ducking behind another pillar, he looked for the quickest route up to the mezzanine level that would keep him out of the renegade’s line of sight. He could easily cut through the stilts that held the makeshift cabin office up, but he needed the renegade leader still breathing. Considering the number of shots that he’d heard outside, Cad very much doubted that Alexis had left anyone else alive to interrogate.

Cad was about to make his move, when an explosion rocked the building. A section of the ceiling structure above the mezzanine office blew inward, and seconds later, Alexis dropped through the newly created hole. However, Cad only saw her for a fraction of a second as the added mass of her power armor caused her to crash through the roof of the flimsy office cabin. There were shouts and cries from inside the office, then a body was flung through the already smashed glass and onto the concrete floor below. Alexis jumped out of the window moments later, using the thrusters in her suit to arrest her rate of descent, and landed next to the body.

“Where’s the bot problem?” asked Alexis, sweeping her twin pistols around the room. “I was in the middle of hacking its core, then it just seemed to go offline.” With the threat of the renegades dealt with, some of the sassiness had returned to Alexis’ voice and personality.

Cad sighed and stepped up beside Alexis. “The bot is underneath that metal cabinet,” he said, pointing to the crushed machine with the tip of his sword.

“Oh, nice shot,” said Alexis, smiling.

“You should have seen the one earlier,” commented Cad, remembering his inch-perfect grenade throw.

Alexis then scowled down at the man on the concrete floor, blood oozing from a severe fracture to his skull. “So who was this guy?” she asked while holstering her Five-Seven-Sevens.

“That was the renegade leader of this outpost,” said Cad, raising an eyebrow at her. “The one we needed alive.”

“Ah…” said Alexis.

Cad grunted then slid the unique alien-derived metal blade back into its scabbard. “What were you saying about this raid being a bust?”

Alexis shrugged. “It’s still a lot of dead renegades. I’d call that a success.”

The watch built into Cad’s armor bleeped an incoming message. His eyes narrowed, hoping that it wasn’t Damien Doyle calling to check up on him. However, when he glanced at the screen, Cad saw that it was Falken instead.

“Maybe the crazy hacker girl has some better news,” Cad said to Alexis before answering the call. The image of Falken, sitting at her desk in her lair on Vediovis, then appeared, projected onto Cad’s retinas. “Unless you’re calling to tell me you have the location of Rand’s Darkspace Renegade hideout, don’t bother opening your mouth…” snapped Cad.

“Oh, well, that’s not exactly why I’m calling,” began Falken. Cad immediately went to kill the connection before Falken quickly added, “But I think I have an idea where it might be.”

Cad glanced at Alexis, who was peering back at him, her face a twisted mix of skepticism and curiosity. “I’m listening…” said Cad as Alexis folded her arms and continued to eavesdrop attentively.

“Here’s the thing…” Falken went on. There was then a loud slurping sound as the hacker drank from one of the many brightly-colored sodas she kept in stock in her lair. “When you nuked the last hideout out in the Darkspace, one of the renegade ships was exposed and took some damage.”

“How the hell do you know about that?” snapped Cad, recoiling away from Falken a little, though the image of the hacker on his retinas stayed in exactly the same position, relative to him. “I haven’t told you which hideouts we’ve nuked, or even that we’ve nuked any at all.” Falken pressed one eye shut and scrunched up her nose. Cad recognized this as the face the hacker made when she was thinking hard about something. In this case, Cad guessed it was whether to attempt to bluff him or risk telling the truth.

“I sort of hacked the data feed from your ship,” Falken eventually admitted.

Cad folded his arms and glowered back at her. “Whether or not the next nuclear missile is directed at your mountain lair, very much depends on what you say next,” Cad replied, allowing each word to hammer home as solidly as one of his armored punches.

“Yeah, well, here’s the cool thing,” Falken continued, oddly unperturbed by Cad’s threat of nuclear annihilation. “The damaged fighter left a sort of radiation wake that was picked up and logged by your ship’s sensors.” The hacker then paused with a sort of astonished grin on her face, as if she’d just revealed a clue to the location of Atlantis or some other ancient mystery.

Cad continued to glower at her. “I’m waiting for the punchline…” he said, throwing his arms out wide.

Falken rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed that she was having to spell it out for him. “The wake persisted long enough for me to get a bearing,” she added. Cad folded his arms again but leant in toward the image of the hacker. “Assuming the ships continued along a single bridge…” Then Falken interrupted herself. “And by the way, it’s wild that your ships can create their own bridges,” she said, eroding what little patience Cad left. Finally, Falken finished the sentence. “Assuming they stayed on that heading, it would put them on a course out beyond Minerva.”

Cad threw his head back and growled. It was like Falken had dangled a carrot and then whipped it away again at the last second. “Do you have any idea how much Darkspace there is just between the hideout we nuked and Minerva?” Cad barked back at Falken. “That information isn’t worth a damn thing to me.” Cad again went to end the call, but as before, Falken quickly chimed in and snatched back his attention.

“But you don’t need to look at all the Darkspace,” Falken said with undiminished enthusiasm. “These hideouts have all been built on moons orbiting rogue planets, right? So I hacked into the Consortium Celestial Cartography mainframe, and guess what?!”

Cad’s eyes narrowed, “You found a rogue planet intersecting the renegade ship’s projected course?”

“No!” cried Falken, and again Cad went to end the call out of sheer annoyance with the hacker. However, once again, she pulled him back from the brink. “What I actually found is a regular moon with an earth-like atmosphere.”

Cad moved his finger away from his watch. “How come this moon had not been charted or discovered before?”

“That’s the wild thing,” said Falken, her excitement growing. “It did used to be in the database, but the entry had been wiped away by another very good hacker.”

Cad frowned. “You think Rand intentionally deleted the planet from the records so she could build her hideout there?”

“She is a genius,” replied Falken with a nonchalant shrug. “Just not as good as me.”

Cad glanced at Alexis, who simply flashed her eyes at him and shrugged.

“And this planet is also not one of the locations listed in the data you extracted from the renegade command computer?” Cad added. He wanted to make sure they’d not just overlooked the moon, but Falken was quick to shake her head.

“This is one super-secret hideout,” Falken said. “And where it is, way out beyond Minerva, makes it the furthest habitable planet ever found.”

Cad drew in a long breath and let it out slowly while stroking the bottom of his chin with his thumb. He glanced at Alexis again, and this time, she simply nodded.

“Okay, we’ll check it out,” Cad said. Then he aimed an armored finger at the holo image of Falken. “But if you send us thousands of light years into the middle of nowhere for no reason, I’m still reserving a nuke for you.”

“And if you find what you’re looking for out there?” said Falken, expectantly.

Cad smiled and huffed a laugh. Falken may have been a hacker, but she was as much a mercenary as any bounty hunter he’d known or killed.

“If you’re right, then a six-figure thank you will be heading your way,” said Cad. The hacker beamed a smile back at him, but Cad simply ended the call and rested his hand on the pommel of his Black Prince sword.

“They won’t know what hit them,” said Alexis, draping herself across Cad’s shoulder. “Rand and the Wolf Squadron think they’re safe on their little moon, but they’ll soon learn they’re not. We go in hard and fast, and don’t stop until they’re all dead.”

Cad nodded, slipping his arms around Alexis’ waist before twisting her to face him. “Knight and Wulfrun we leave to the end,” he said through gritted teeth. “Rand and all the others can burn for all I care. But Knight and Wulfrun… They have to suffer.”

2

Hallam Knight dropped another bag of survival gear onto the deck of the renegade hangar bay, then puffed out his cheeks and released a weary sigh. Hallam and Dakota had been gathering the gear needed for their expedition to the alien homeworld for the last hour. The pile in front of him had steadily expanded into a comically large mass of clothes and equipment, half of which Hallam was now fairly sure they didn’t really need.

After much deliberation, Dr. Rand had decided they should take two ships to the alien world. This was partly for the extra space, but also to have a backup in case anything went wrong with one of the vessels. Considering that the star system was a muddle of turbulent and confused gravitational currents and eddies, Hallam had considered this a sensible precaution. Ruby Rivas, naturally, had argued it was overkill, but Dr. Rand had insisted. The plan was that Hallam and Dr. Rand would travel in his ship, while Ruby Rivas was to accompany Dakota. The reason for what Hallam considered to be an excessive amount of baggage was that the scientist hadn’t even been able to say what clothing they’d need to wear. Instead, Dr. Rand had unhelpfully stated that the mysterious thirteenth bridge world could be either “very hot” or “very cold,” depending on where and when they landed.

“Are you sure we need all this crap?” said Hallam as Dr. Rand drew up beside the growing pile of gear. She was dressed in renegade armor, which suited her better than Hallam had expected it would. With her academic title and background, it was easy to forget that the pioneering scientist had been out exploring the galaxy before Hallam’s voice had even broken.

“If I didn’t think we needed it, I wouldn’t be bringing it, Mr. Knight,” replied Dr. Rand in her teacherly tone. She then set down another item of luggage, this time a metal briefcase, in front of the pile of bags.

“If you say so, Doc,” replied Hallam, shrugging. “Though we are just going out there to raid some alien tech, not go on a month-long camping trip.”

Dakota and Ruby arrived a couple of seconds later, adding two additional bags and four sub-machine guns into the mix.

“I’d rather go out there prepared than find out the one gizmo or piece of gear we need was left on the hangar deck,” said Dakota. “Besides, it makes it feel more like an adventure.”

Hallam snorted. “After our outing on Doyle’s rogue world, haven’t we all had enough adventure for the time being?” he said. Then Hallam picked up one of the SMGs and cradled it to his chest. “Though after getting our asses kicked by those reptilian monsters, I’m certainly not adverse to bringing a little extra firepower this time, just to be on the safe side.”

One of the renegade technicians jogged up to the group and began to transfer the bags onto a trolley, ready for loading onto the fighters. Dr. Rand was quick to pick up the metal briefcase again to make sure it wasn’t taken.

“The only thing we absolutely can’t do without is this,” said Dr. Rand, tapping the briefcase with her finger. “This is the shielded container inside which we must store the alien components. Without this, we’d all be dead from exposure long before leaving the alien world.”

Hallam fidgeted uncomfortably at the mention of exposure. “Hey, Doc, is it even safe to walk around on the surface of this planet?” he asked. He’d not even considered that there might be damaged technology on the world that was leaking Randenite radiation.

“There are safe areas where the radiation will not pose a problem,” Dr. Rand replied, which helped to set Hallam’s mind at ease. “I will be monitoring the radiation levels continuously, but we must still remain vigilant. There are worse dangers on that planet than exposure to radiation.”

Dakota laughed anxiously. “You’re not really selling this to us…”

Dr. Rand, as usual, did not look amused. “I’m not going to downplay the dangers, Miss Wulfrun,” she said, suddenly looking tired. “In fact, I worry that it’s already too late, and that even the act of destroying the Centrum won’t now be enough to stop the bridges from collapsing.”

Another technician strolled up to load the remaining bags onto a trolley, and everyone remained silent while he was within earshot. The man appeared to notice this and took the hint, loading the trolley and extracting himself in half the time that the first renegade had taken.

“Is there any way to repair the damage to the bridges?” asked Hallam once the worker was out of earshot. Hallam was not accustomed to the genius scientist looking vexed, but at that moment, she appeared just as scared and uncertain as the face he saw in the mirror each morning.

“Theoretically, perhaps there is a way,” said Dr. Rand, in what Hallam considered to be one of the cagiest responses to a question that she’d given yet. However, this time, the scientist elaborated on her answer without being prompted by Hallam to do so. “I spent many years exploring that very question, Mr. Knight, and there is a way. But it still requires the destruction of the Centrum, and it still requires that I recover a number of additional components of the alien technology.”

Ruby Rivas blew out a yellow bubble right next to Hallam’s face and let it burst. She’d apparently snuck up behind him while he was talking with Dr. Rand with this express intention in mind. Hallam scrunched up his nose as the chemical scent of mango filled the air. It was more pleasant than many of Ruby’s gum flavors, Hallam admitted, though the odor still reminded him more of cleaning products than food.

“So we need alien gizmos, right?” said Ruby, slapping Hallam on the back. “Then it’s a good job we’re heading out to a secret alien homeworld, isn’t it, tanker man?” Ruby then strolled past Hallam and picked up a sub-machine gun from the small remaining pile of gear, resting it over her shoulder.

“You know, the next time you get blown up after being outclassed by Cad Rikkard, I think I’ll just let you sail on out into the Darkspace…” said Hallam, looking down his nose at Ruby.

Ruby let another gum bubble burst then winked at Hallam. “You’d miss me, admit it.”

Hallam snorted, but then the general alarm rang out in the hangar bay, snapping everyone to attention like the holler of a drill sergeant. Dr. Rand ran to a comms panel on the back wall, while Hallam and the others waited anxiously for her update.

A commotion close to the hangar bay doors drew Hallam’s attention away from the scientist. He jogged closer, trying to see what the cause of the excitement was. Unlike all of the other renegade hideouts, which were located on inhospitable moons orbiting rogue planets, Dr. Rand’s personal base was on a habitable world with breathable atmosphere and earth-normal gravity. The hangar doors opened onto an external landing strip, at the end of which stood two massive autocannons, standing guard over the base like the Colossus of Rhodes. The doors were generally left open to allow the moon’s cool, clean air to circulate inside. However, the technicians were now hurriedly working to close the huge slabs of metal, which instantly put Hallam on edge.

“What’s up, Hal?” said Dakota, who had joined him without Hallam realizing.

“I’m not sure,” replied Hallam, stepping further toward the bay doors, closer to where his and Dakota’s fighters were fueled and waiting. The turrets at the end of the landing strip then suddenly sprang into life, the thunderous noise of their motors and gears churning in order to aim their weapons into the planet’s dimming evening sky.

“We have to leave, right now!”

Hallam and Dakota spun around to see Dr. Rand running toward them, with Ruby close behind.

“They’ve found us,” Dr. Rand continued, locking eyes with Hallam. The usually unflappable scientist was visibly shaken, and this only made Hallam’s heart thump harder and faster in his chest. “Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black. They’re coming, now.”

Suddenly, the din from the autocannons stopped and Hallam saw the turrets droop down like numbed limbs. Hallam also felt numb, unwilling to accept that the Blackfire Squadron had tracked them down so quickly.

“They’ve disabled the defense grid,” cried Dakota, slapping Hallam on the shoulder to rouse him from his shocked stupor. “Get Dr. Rand on-board and launch, we don’t have a moment to lose.”

Hallam waited for Dr. Rand to run alongside as Dakota and Ruby raced toward the other ship. Dr. Rand then slid to a stop, and turned back.

“The shielded case!” Dr. Rand called to Hallam. “We can’t leave without it.”

“Doc, if we don’t leave now, we won’t leave at all!” Hallam cried back before a thunderous roar outside turned his attention back to the bay doors. Peering through the narrowing gap between the two slabs of metal, Hallam saw the eagle-like shapes of the Blackfire Squadron fighters closing in. There was a flash of orange light and plume of dark smoke from the lead fighter, and Hallam’s eyes grew wide, realizing that a missile was streaking toward them.

3

With only seconds to act, Hallam raced toward Dr. Rand and dragged her down to the deck. Moments later, the missile from the Blackfire Squadron fighter thudded into the hangar bay doors. A savage explosion rippled through the deck and more alarms sounded. Hallam pulled himself up and saw smoke and flames enveloping the far end of the hangar bay. However, he could also see twilight filtering through the smoke, which meant that the hangar doors were gone.

“Are you unhurt, Mr. Knight?” said Dr. Rand, who had also climbed to her knees.

“I’m fine, Doc,” said Hallam, turning back to the scientist and noticing that blood was trickling down her forehead. “Hey, you’re bleeding,” he added, quickly checking the cut.

“It’s just a scratch. I’ll be fine,” said Dr. Rand, taking Hallam’s hands and pulling them away from the wound. “But we must find Miss Wulfrun and Miss Rivas quickly. There’s not a moment to lose.”

Hallam nodded, then got to his feet and moved toward the smoke. “Dak!” he cried out, though his voice barely cut through the crackle of fire and groan of collapsing metal. “Dak, where are you!” Then Hallam saw her and Ruby, near the left side of the hangar bay door. They’d been caught close to the explosion but had managed to take cover behind a shuttlecraft that was now peppered with burning debris. Relieved that Dakota and Ruby were okay, Hallam turned back to Dr. Rand to tell her the good news, but the scientist had already run back to the comms panel on the end wall. Seconds later, Hallam heard an announcement boom out over the base’s PA system.

“All personnel, this is Shelby Rand. We are under attack. Evacuate the base immediately. I repeat, evacuate the base immediately.”

Dr. Rand then ran back to Hallam as Dakota and Ruby also arrived, both of them coughing black mucus into their sleeves. The smoke that had shrouded the missile impact site was starting to clear, and through the twisted and melted remains of the hangar doors, Hallam could see two fighters hovering outside. One of them bore the unmistakable sinister raven skull emblem that identified it as belonging to Alexis Black. And wherever Alexis Black was, Cad Rikkard was never far away.

“We can still defend the base,” spluttered Ruby, grabbing one of the SMGs from the pile of remaining gear on the deck and loading it. “They could have just nuked the whole site, but they’re attacking on foot instead. That means they want a fight. Let’s give them one!”

Hallam also grabbed a weapon and slapped in a magazine. He had no desire to fight Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black, especially given their superior weapons and armor, but it seemed they had no choice. “Ruby is right, Cad wants to make this personal,” said Hallam, racking the SMG with a satisfying metallic clack. “But even if there’s only two of them, it won’t be easy to take them down.”

Cad Rikkard’s fighter swooped in ahead of Alexis’ ship, which had already touched down on the stony landing strip outside. However, the mercenary fighter continued to hover a few meters above the ground, making no attempt to land. Hallam scowled, wondering what the leader of the Blackfire Squadron was doing. Then the nose of the vessel angled toward their renegade fighters, and his stomach tightened into a knot as he finally grasped Rikkard’s plan.

“Everyone, get down!” Hallam cried as the thud of the mercenary fighter’s cannons split the air. Hallam’s ship was targeted first and was shredded within a matter of seconds. Then Cad turned his guns on Dakota’s vessel, pulverizing it at near point-blank range. Both crippled fighters erupted into flames, scattering more burning debris across the hangar. The destroyed ships were quickly met by an army of fire bots. The machines doused the burning vessels with a compound that rapidly exhausted the flames, then set into a protective shell. Hallam knew that the Shelby Drives and Randenite tanks were hardened and designed to withstand worse punishment than Cad had dished out. Yet even so, the longer they remained in the hangar, the greater the risk the Randenite tanks would leak or explode.

“We don’t have a choice anymore,” said Dakota as Cad Rikkard’s fighter moved away and descended onto the gravel behind Alexis’ ship. “This is where we make our stand, whether we like it or not,” Dakota added, taking one of the SMGs and loading it.

The sound of boots clattering on the deck caused Hallam to glance back to the hangar exit. A squad of ten renegades in combat armor ran through the doors and took up positions. They were led by the base commander, Commander Castell, who was the last person Hallam expected to see on the front line.

“I ordered you to evacuate, commander,” Dr. Rand called over to Castell, making no attempt to hide her displeasure.

“The evacuation is underway smoothly,” Castell replied, holding firm. “Everyone else is exiting via the emergency hatches in the living quarters.” Castell was then forced to adjust his ill-fitting helmet, which had dropped over his eyes. “But we’re not leaving,” he continued, once he could see clearly again. “We’re not letting you face these mercenaries alone.”

Hallam glanced at Dakota, and her uneasy look suggested that she too was less than confident in Castell’s ability to hold off Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black. His bravery wasn’t in question, but Castell was no soldier. If Hallam was being honest, none of them were. They’d succeeded so far mostly on guile and sheer dumb luck.

“Rikkard is going to eat us alive, unless we can find a way off this base,” said Hallam as the others huddled round.

“If you have any suggestions, Mr. Knight, then I’m all ears,” said Dr. Rand, still watching Castell out of the corner of her eye. “With our fighters destroyed, the only other ship with a functioning Shelby Drive is the original transport that brought my crew here. It is hidden a kilometer from the base.”

Hallam was distracted by the sight of Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black, both calmly marching through the smoke as if they didn’t have a care in the world. The two mercenaries were encased in their iridescent black power armor, including full-cover helmets. Both were also brandishing powerful assault rifles that matched the menacing appearance of their alien-looking coverings. Commander Castell ordered his squad to move forward, and the ten renegade fighters quickly advanced, taking up new defensive positions midway into the hangar.

“The transport isn’t the only ship with a Shelby Drive,” said Hallam, looking directly at the raven skull emblem emblazoned on the mercenary fighter parked outside. “If Commander Castell can keep them occupied for just a few minutes, maybe we can sneak onto Alexis’ ship and steal it.” The idea was met with a stunned silence, although Hallam couldn’t tell whether the group was stunned by the stupidity of his plan or the sheer brilliance of it.

It was Ruby Rivas that eventually broke the impasse. “Not bad, tanker man. That might actually work!” she said, slapping Hallam on the shoulder.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, gumface,” replied Hallam. He then turned to Dr. Rand to get her view and, ultimately, her approval.

“It’s certainly audacious, but it’s the best idea we have,” admitted Dr. Rand. “However, don’t be concerned that Commander Castell is our only line of defense. I still have a surprise or two up my sleeve.”

Dr. Rand left her statement hanging mysteriously in the air. Then the group moved out along the right side of the hangar, trying to stay out of the mercenary’s line of sight. Hallam, Dakota, and Ruby all held their SMGs ready, while Dr. Rand clutched the shielded metal case to her chest, as if it were a beloved childhood teddy bear.

“Hallam Knight!” shouted Cad Rikkard, his voice amplified through the face mask of his menacing black helmet. “Give up now, and I’ll allow the rest of Rand’s cohort to run. I don’t care about your little rebellion. But force me to come after you, and once I’m done, I’ll slaughter them to the last man.”

Castell had seemingly already heard enough. He ordered his squad to attack, and moments later, the ear-splitting rattle of ten semi-automatic rifles filled the hangar. Hallam saw sparks flash off Cad’s body as the bullets were deflected by the mercenary’s unique armor. Then Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black sprang into action, displaying no fear or hesitation. Cad marched directly at the first squad of renegades, firing controlled bursts from his futuristic-looking rifle. The noise of the weapon drowned out almost every other gun in the room. It sounded like a jackhammer compared to the rattle of the renegade’s firearms. Three of Castell’s men fell immediately and the commander himself was forced to take cover behind a maintenance truck. At the same time, Alexis Black soared upwards, as if she was being raised on an invisible wire, and rained down bullets onto the second group of renegades. She tore through three of the defenders within seconds, the bullets from her rifle punching through the renegade combat armor as if it wasn’t there at all.

“Dak, get the others onboard that mercenary fighter,” said Hallam while Cad and Alexis were occupied with Castell’s squad. “Rikkard wants me the most, so I’ll hang back and keep him distracted, while you get the ship ready to launch.”

Dakota shook her head. “And what the hell are you going to do? Attack him with harsh words?”

“I’ll find a way,” said Hallam, though at that moment, harsh words was about the best idea he had. “There’s no time to debate this. Just go!”

Dakota gritted her teeth, clearly unhappy with Hallam’s gung-ho idea. Then Ruby spoke in his defense, which took them all by surprise.

“I’ll stay back and cover him,” Ruby announced, speaking the words with such fierce determination that Hallam knew no one would change her mind. “Just be ready to haul ass out of here when we come running.”

Dakota was still at odds with the plan, but Dr. Rand met her eyes and rested a hand on her shoulder. It was a gesture of reassurance, but also a way to let her know that the time for debate was over. “We must get to the ship, Miss Wulfrun. Everything depends on it.”

Dakota growled but then grudgingly nodded her agreement. Dr. Rand turned back to Hallam. “I can give you something to help even the odds…” the scientist said. She slipped her palm computer out of her jacket pocket and rapidly input a sequence of commands.

Hallam was about to ask what she could give him that would possibly even the odds against two highly skilled and heavily armed mercenary killers. Then the answer presented itself. A concealed door in the end wall of the hangar slid open. Hallam shook his head and huffed a disbelieving laugh as a Theta-class warbot marched out of the opening and locked its glowing red eyes onto Cad Rikkard.

4

Hallam observed the Theta-class warbot that Dr. Rand had unleashed into the hangar with cautious optimism. He was more than a little wary of the fighting machine, especially after his experience with the alien warbot on Doyle’s rogue world. Nevertheless, the appearance of the mighty warbot had certainly gotten the attention of Cad Rikkard. The mercenary had swiftly moved into cover and appeared to be studying the machine. The opaque black visor of Cad’s helmet then turned from the warbot to the figure of Alexis Black, still hovering over the renegade defenders like the angel of death.

“I don’t know whether that thing will be a help or a hindrance,” said Hallam, managing a weak smile.

“If nothing else, it’s an extra target,” said Dakota. Then she grabbed Hallam’s right shoulder pauldron and pulled him closer. “I’ll be waiting for you on that fighter,” she said, holding his eyes without blinking. “You’d better be there.”

“I’ll be there, Dak, don’t worry,” replied Hallam, managing to come across sounding far more confident than he felt. “Now go.”

Dakota and Dr. Rand moved away along the edge of the hangar as Hallam and Ruby ran into cover behind a crane lift at the rear of the bay, close to the remaining renegade defenders. Hallam glanced out at the ongoing skirmish and saw Alexis Black momentarily pause from her assault to work on a control panel built into the arm of her suit. Ruby, however, wasted no time in taking the fight to the enemy. She opened fire while the female mercenary was distracted, peppering Alexis’ iridescent armor with bullets. Some of the remaining renegade defenders joined the assault, and Alexis’ suit took a pounding. Suddenly, the thrusters failed and Alexis dropped like a stone. She thudded into the deck like a falling anvil, denting the metal deck plating from the force of the impact. The fall should have killed her, but once again, the advanced alien-looking armor had been Alexis Black’s savior. Even so, the mercenary still appeared to be winded and was forced to crawl behind a stack of storage containers and take cover.

Meanwhile, Cad Rikkard had resumed his assault, shooting and killing the remaining renegades that had taken up arms against him, with the exception of Commander Castell. The commander was still crouched behind a maintenance truck, frantically attempting to reload his weapon. Cad Rikkard casually slung his rifle, fixing it to a magnetic stow on his back, and drew his medieval-looking sword. As Cad advanced, the strange, steel-grey metal of the blade toyed with the lights in the hangar, in the same way that the mercenary’s armor shimmered and somehow looked alive. Resting his free hand onto the maintenance truck, Cad then shoved the vehicle aside, utilizing the augmented strength of his armor to its full effect. Castell was exposed, as if he was a bug that had been hiding underneath a stone that Cad Rikkard had just rolled over. The commander spun around and tried to scuttle away from the mercenary, toward the steadily advancing form of the monstrous Theta-class warbot. However, Cad caught the commander by the collar of his chest plate and threw him against the truck. The tip of Cad’s sword was then pressed to Castell’s throat.

Hallam couldn’t stand by and let the commander be slaughtered like an animal. Without thinking, he darted out from his position of cover behind the crane and waved his hands above his head. “Hey, asshole, I’m over here!” Hallam yelled at Cad Rikkard. “If you want me, come and get me!”

“What the hell are you doing?” cried Ruby, trying to reach out and drag Hallam back into cover. “Get your dumb ass back here!”

“I’m creating a distraction,” Hallam answered, shaking off Ruby’s attempts to pull him out of the line of fire. “That’s why we’re out here, right?” However, as Cad Rikkard looked toward him, Hallam found himself quickly reconsidering his hasty move. Ruby growled then ran out of sight into a side-bay, which was shielded from Cad’s view by the enormous crane lift. Hallam’s face fell, dismayed that Ruby had seemingly abandoned him. He was about to call after her, then heard Cad Rikkard’s voice booming across the hangar.

“The chance to save your friends has long gone, Knight,” roared Cad, his words again amplified so that it sounded like the voice of god. Still with the blade pressed to Castell’s neck, Cad removed his helmet and tossed it aside, revealing his scarred face and intense, determined eyes for the first time since the attack had begun. Without another word, Cad thrust the blade of the sword through the cowering body of Commander Castell. Then Cad lifted Castell above his head like an Olympic torch bearer.

Hallam could do nothing but look on, helpless against the ferocious might of the mercenary. His eyes turned to the warbot, which was closing in fast on Cad Rikkard’s position. Hallam knew that Cad had faced and defeated machines like it or stronger in the past, but right now, it was their only weapon against the Blackfire Squadron.

“I’m going to make you watch as I kill them all,” Cad snarled as blood poured down the shimmering blade, painting Cad Rikkard’s armored gauntlet red. “Then I’ll kill you and your friends,” the mercenary added before launching the commander’s body at the approaching warbot. However, the machine merely swatted Castell’s punctured, dying frame away with a swipe of its enormous forearm. The commander’s now lifeless body was sent hurtling through a stack of barrels, toppling them like skittles.

Suddenly, Alexis Black rose up from behind the storage containers, still hobbling from the effects of her fall. She had also ditched her helmet and rifle and was now wielding two pistols. She opened fire with the weapons, raining bullets onto the renegades that had split off to confront her with pinpoint accuracy. Hallam could now see that the female mercenary’s armor was damaged in places and that blood was trickling out through several of the bullet holes and cracks. With the renegade defenders quickly dispatched, Alexis Black locked her eyes onto Hallam, who was still standing out in the open, stunned by Castell’s brutal execution. There was a moment of stillness as they silently observed each other. Then the mercenary charged at him, her eyes wild and teeth gritted. In that moment, Alexis Black was as terrifying as any opponent that Hallam had ever faced.

Hallam opened fire at Alexis with his SMG, and sparks to erupted all across her body as the bullets chipped more fragments off her armor. Yet the assault did nothing to curb Alexis’ advance. She was still coming at Hallam like a runaway locomotive. Hallam’s weapon clicked empty, but it was already too late to move out of the mercenary’s path. Hallam braced himself for the impact, raising his arms to shield his face, but a mere second before ploughing into him, Alexis was suddenly knocked off course, as if struck by a swinging wrecking ball. The mercenary tumbled and skidded across the deck and crashed through a stack of containers. Hallam could see that Alexis’ chest armor had been crumpled, but despite the impact, the mercenary was still alive. Lowering his arms again, Hallam saw Ruby Rivas standing where Alexis had been moments earlier, wearing an exoskeletal power loading suit.

“How do you like this for a distraction?” said Ruby, slipping a stick of gum into her mouth.

Hallam laughed nervously. “It’s better than my idea, I’ll give you that.”

There was now only Cad Rikkard left standing, but the leader of the Blackfire Squadron had a new problem to contend with. Dr. Rand’s Theta-class warbot advanced on the mercenary, tearing the bed railings off the maintenance truck that Cad had shoved aside earlier. Arming itself with an improvised weapon was a trick that Hallam had never seen a warbot pull before, and he wondered how much unique code this killing machine had received from the genius scientist. Cad faced off against the machine, sword held ready, as the warbot swung the metal bar toward him. Cad blocked the attack, slicing the bar in half as if it were made of chocolate. However, before the mercenary could counterattack, the warbot had surged forward and slammed a punch into Cad’s chest, sending him toppling backwards across the now blood-soaked deck.

“This is our chance,” said Ruby Rivas. “You run for the ship, while I keep Alexis Black down.” Ruby then blew out a gum bubble and nodded toward the warbot. “Hopefully, that thing will take care of Rikkard, but even if it doesn’t, it will keep the asshole busy for at least a couple of minutes.”

Hallam hesitated. He didn’t want to leave Ruby to face the mercenaries alone. “That exoskeleton was designed for loading equipment. It won’t protect you against a bullet or a sword,” he said, keeping half an eye on Alexis, who was slowly rising to her feet.

“Look, tanker man, Dr. Rand needs you,” Ruby hit back, taking an unusually stern tone with Hallam. Then, even more unusually, she spat the chewed-up gum out onto the deck. This simple act alone changed her whole complexion in a way that made her look more earnest. “The doc said you’re the only one who can handle enough radiation to recover the tech she needs. So get the hell out of here and do your part, and I’ll stay and do mine.” Ruby Rivas then took a step toward Alexis Black, the whir of the exosuit’s gears and motors making her sound like another warbot.

“Hey, just make sure you get your own crazy ass to the ship too,” Hallam called out to the second member of the Wolf Squadron. Ruby turned and Hallam held her eyes, despite the renegade clearly finding it uncomfortable. “We’re a long way from done yet. And as much as you’re a huge pain in my ass, we need you, gumface.”

Ruby smiled, then gritted her teeth, the muscles in her face becoming taut. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, tanker man,” Ruby replied, with the same grit and determination she’d shown since the Blackfire Squadron had begun their attack. She then glanced to Alexis, who was now back to her feet, fixing them both with a furious stare. “Just get your ass onto that fighter, and I’ll meet you there,” Ruby added, marching out to confront Alexis Black.

Hallam still didn’t want to leave, but he forced himself to look away, then ran as hard as he could. Chancing a look back, Hallam saw that the modified Theta-class warbot was still attacking Cad Rikkard, forcing the mercenary to employ all of his considerable fighting prowess. The blade of Cad’s sword flashed in the gaps between the machine’s attacks, chipping away chunks of its armor. Feinting an attack, the warbot then drew Cad forward then hammered the mercenary on the back with a blow that would have cracked concrete. The mercenary fell to the deck then found himself staring up at the machine as it raised its enormous foot, ready to stomp Cad Rikkard into mush. Then the warbot stopped dead. Hallam slid to a stop and crouched behind the melted remains of the hangar door, willing the machine to deal the killing blow, but it was like someone had flipped an off switch.

“What the hell?” Hallam said out loud, scarcely able to believe they had come so close to ending Cad Rikkard’s relentless pursuit. However, the warbot remained frozen, allowing Cad to roll out from under it and climb to his feet. Dakota was standing just in front of the rear ramp of Alexis Black’s fighter, calling to him. Hallam could hear the fighter’s engines spinning up and knew he had to go, but Ruby Rivas was still inside the hangar, fighting hand-to-hand with Alexis. The sharp chime of metal striking metal filtered into his ears as Ruby’s exosuit clashed with Alexis’ iridescent power armor. However, with the warbot inexplicably deactivated, Cad Rikkard had also now turned his attention to the second member of the Wolf Squadron.

“Hal, come on, what are you waiting for!” he heard Dakota yell, but Hallam couldn’t take his eyes off Ruby and the two mercenaries. Watching with bated breath, he saw Ruby soak up a hard combo from Alexis, which dropped the renegade to her knees. The mercenary then reached down and crushed the exosuit’s power pack with her armored gauntlets, rendering it nothing more than a useless dead weight.

“Hal, where’s Ruby?” he heard Dakota cry, her voice strained and practically pleading with him. “We have to go!”

Hallam still didn’t answer; he couldn’t leave Ruby behind, even if it was the only way to save his own skin. He pushed off from the crumbled metal bay door and ran back inside the hangar. However, he’d barely made it ten meters before Alexis Black lifted Ruby Rivas to her feet and held her as Cad Rikkard thrust his sword through her gut. Hallam dropped to his knees as the iridescent steel-gray blade pierced through Ruby’s back. The mercenary held her upright, peering into the renegade’s startled eyes, as if watching the light leave them. Then Cad tilted the blade down, allowing Ruby to slide off the edge of the sword into a crumpled heap on the deck.

Hallam cried out, though it was just an animalistic wail. A mix of rage and terror and shock and guilt. Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black both looked up, their eyes meeting Hallam’s across the length of the hangar. Then both began charging toward him. Hallam wanted to stay and fight, but he knew it was hopeless. Too many had died already, and if he also fell, then everything they’d fought for would have been for nothing. He turned and ran, this time without looking back. His boots thudded up the rear ramp of Alexis Black’s fighter, and he dropped to his knees in the cargo hold, body trembling and lungs gasping for air.

“Where’s Ruby?” Dakota called back from the cockpit, but Hallam was still too dazed to answer.

Through the still open rear ramp, he could see Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black drawing closer, both holding renegade rifles that they’d collected off the deck as they ran.

“Hal, where’s Ruby?” Dakota shouted again.

“She’s gone…” Hallam called back, though his voice was weak and the sound barely carried beyond the end of the cargo hold.

“Hal, I can’t hear you…” Dakota said, but Hallam spun around and cut her off.

“She’s gone, Dak,” he cried out, and this time, his voice was steady, shored up by the adrenaline and anger surging through his body. “She’s gone… they killed her.”

Dakota’s lips trembled and she tried to speak, but no sound came out of her mouth.

“We have to go, Dak,” said Hallam, though even the act of speaking the words made him sick with guilt. “We have to go…”

Dakota’s lips pursed tightly together and her eyes shimmered with tears, then she turned away. The ramp began to close as bullets clattered inside the cargo hold. However, just as the renegade rifles had been ineffective against the mercenary’s power armor, they were similarly useless against the advanced armor of the Blackfire Squadron fighters.

Hallam felt the ship lift into the air, and he grabbed hold of anything he could find to steady himself as the vessel began to accelerate away from Dr. Rand’s hideout. However, he knew that they had not escaped from Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black yet.

5

Hallam untangled himself from the cargo netting in the hold of Alexis Black’s mercenary fighter and staggered toward the cockpit. The planet’s lush green terrain was flashing past beneath them as Dakota soared the stolen fighter fast and low away from the hideout. Hallam flopped into the auxiliary seat behind the Dr. Rand, who was focused on a row of computer consoles, brow furrowed.

“Rikkard has already launched,” Dakota called back, spotting Hallam in her peripheral vision. “We should stay inside the atmosphere until we’re ready to bridge. If we blast into space now, it will be a lot harder to evade them.”

Hallam glanced at the auxiliary console and saw Cad Rikkard’s fighter on the scanner, gaining on them steadily. The mercenary clearly knew the capabilities of the advanced vessel far better than Dakota did.

“We should have blown up the other damn fighter as soon as we took off,” said Hallam. With the benefit of hindsight, he realized how easily they could have prevented the Blackfire Squadron mercenaries from pursuing them.

“Honestly, Hal, it’s a miracle I even got this thing airborne,” said Dakota, who was cycling through different console screens and flicking switches seemingly at random. “I haven’t even worked out how to arm the weapons systems yet, so there’s no way I could have taken out Rikkard’s ship. It’s like this thing speaks a different language to the renegade fighters.”

Hallam scanned the flight deck and controls and considered that if he was in the pilot’s seat, he probably wouldn’t have even gotten off the ground yet. Dakota was right, the heavily modified and customized fighter seemed to have been uniquely tailored to its owner, like a custom-made suit.

“Thankfully, I have been able to access the Shelby Drive,” Dr. Rand chipped in, still focused on the computer screens. “However, the system fitted to this vessel is what you might call a ‘crude knock off’ of my self-bridging technology,” the scientist continued. She sounded affronted, as if she were an artist that had stumbled across a poorly-painted copy of her work in a gallery. “I will do my best to set a course for the alien homeworld, but we may be forced to adapt our plans.”

Hallam reckoned they probably had less than a minute before Cad Rikkard was in weapons range. That he hadn’t launched a missile at them already was telling, he thought. The mercenary still wanted their deaths to be intimate. A missile was too quick. Too impersonal. However, in their current situation, Cad’s fixation with killing Hallam face-to-face worked to their advantage, giving them precious extra time to escape.

“Right now, anywhere other than here will do, Doc,” said Hallam, conscious that even Dakota’s excellent piloting would be tested to the limit against Cad Rikkard, especially in an unfamiliar ship. “They’re already on our tail, and the longer we frustrate Rikkard, the greater the chance he’ll just blow us out of the sky and call it a day.”

Dr. Rand didn’t answer immediately, and instead continued to furiously tap away at the compact computer keyboard. Finally, she hit the command button, which executed with a satisfying clack, and rested back in her seat.

“It’s a crude hack, like this ship’s Shelby Drive, but the bridge program is running,” the scientist said. “However, we still have perhaps two or three minutes until the drive is fully spun up and ready.” The look on Dr. Rand’s face as she said this suggested she also knew that two minutes was more time than they had to spare.

Suddenly, the sharp report of metal striking metal rang through the cabin. “Hang on!” Dakota cried, pushing the fighter lower and banking sharply. However, despite the warning, Hallam was still nearly thrown to the deck.

“Did we take any damage?” asked Hallam, climbing back into his seat and peering down at his console. He cursed, unable to find the damage report readout within the unfamiliar menu system.

“I have no idea,” replied Alexis, banking hard in the opposite direction and dropping into a system of canyons. “And I still haven’t figured out how to activate the weapons in this thing, so we can’t even shoot back.”

Hallam unclipped his harness and gripped the back of Dakota’s seat for support. “Doc, would you mind changing places?” he asked the scientist. “These mercenary fighters have armor shields. If I can figure out how to activate them, it might give us the time we need to bridge out of here.”

Dr. Rand nodded and unclipped her harness. “Very well, Mr. Knight, but if I fall on my face, I will be most displeased,” she said humorlessly.

Hallam was again almost thrown to the deck as Dakota wrestled with the controls to keep them inside the narrow system of canyons. “You and me both, Doc,” he answered as Dakota jerked left then right, forcing him to grip on to the back of her seat with every ounce of strength in his body. Waiting for Dakota to level off again, Dr. Rand then dove for the auxiliary seat, but misjudged and ended up almost headbutting it. “Doc, are you all right?” said Hallam. The scientist managed to pull herself into the chair and hurriedly fasten the harness. Blood was trickling from her nose, but she held up a hand to signify she was okay.

More metallic pings rattled the hull, and Dakota was forced to take desperate evasive action. Hallam was caught completely unprepared for the ferocious maneuver. He was first thrown into the cockpit glass, then hard to the deck before finally being tossed across the other side of the cabin, like a stuffed toy spinning around in a washing machine. Hallam cursed and rubbed his aching head, which felt like he’d just soaked up a solid left-right combo. For a moment, he didn’t know where he was, then he realized he was face down in something soft and warm.

“Hal, get the hell off me!” Dakota yelled.

Hallam jerked up to see Dakota’s horrified face staring down at him. He’d evidently landed face first in her lap. Hallam climbed off Dakota, feeling a swell of embarrassment in addition to the swell of bruises from being tossed around the ship. Clambering back to his seat, he finally managed to secure the harness. “Thanks for breaking my fall, Dak,” said Hallam, smirking at her. He thought that a bit of levity might cut through the tension.

“I’ll break your damn nose if…” Dakota began, clearly not seeing the funny side, but then she cut herself off mid-sentence. Cursing, she threw the fighter into another hard sequence of maneuvers as more cannon rounds flashed past, raking the surface of the rocky canyon. “Those armor shields would be good about now!” Dakota yelled, glancing across to Hallam.

Hallam stared at the screen, desperately trying to understand the mercenary fighter’s unfamiliar systems. “I’ll find you something, even if it means dropping the rear ramp and throwing my damn boots out at him,” he called back.

“Two minutes…” Dr. Rand said as the pulse of the Shelby Drive system began to build. Her voice, unlike those of Hallam and Dakota, was remarkably calm. “It would be preferable if we bridged while in space, rather than in atmosphere…”

Dakota pulled out of the canyon and banked hard to put a steep hillside between them and Cad Rikkard’s fighter, which was still pursuing them relentlessly. “I don’t think we’ll have a choice,” she called back to Dr. Rand. “I can’t even promise we won’t be a burning pile of wreckage in two minutes.”

The exchange between Dr. Rand and Dakota washed over Hallam like a light breeze. He was too engrossed in the command menus and systems of the mercenary ship to pay any attention to them. However, his concentration was paying off, and he was finally beginning to understand how the fighter’s systems worked. Most of it seemed to be done through interfaces in the helmet visor, which Dakota wasn’t wearing. However, the vital offensive and defensive systems were all neatly and conveniently arranged in an easy-to-reach menu system. Once you knew how it worked, it was simple and intuitive, Hallam realized.

“I think I’ve got this thing figured out,” Hallam said as Dakota pulled up hard and looped back on herself, narrowly avoiding another volley of cannon fire. “Dak, let him get on your tail, and then prepare to bank hard.”

Dakota laughed nervously. “Honestly, Hal, I don’t think that will be a problem…” she replied, leveling off and trying to turn in behind Cad’s ship. “What do you have in mind?”

Hallam activated the fighter’s defensive systems and hovered his finger over the screen. “I’m going to blow out every countermeasure we’ve got, and try to temporarily blind Rikkard’s sensors,” he said, watching as the enemy ship again managed to outmaneuver them. “Then you turn hard and I’ll raise the armor shields. With any luck, it will be enough to ride this out until the bridge drive kicks in.”

An alert rang out in the cockpit, and Hallam saw that the mercenary had a missile lock on them. Cad’s patience had clearly been exhausted.

“I told you it wouldn’t be hard to let him catch me,” said Dakota sarcastically. “Do it, and let’s hope this works…”

Hallam engaged the system, blanketing the space behind them with a chaotic mix of physical and electronic countermeasures. Even their own sensors glitched, and he lost track of Cad Rikkard’s fighter. However, Dakota then banked hard and began to climb, which was the cue for Hallam to act.

“I’m activating the shields, now!” Hallam called out. A shell of metal panels grew around the core systems, adding extra protection for the engines, flight controls, and cockpit. “It worked!” Hallam yelled, shaking his fist triumphantly. Then his mood – along with the entire cabin – darkened, as the shields also enclosed the cockpit glass in a cocoon of metal.

“Hal! What the hell!” Dakota yelled as the armor shields completely cut off her view outside the ship.

Another alert rang out and Hallam peered down at his screen, which was still a jumble of white noise. Then his eyes grew wide, spotting a missile soaring toward them through the maelstrom of interference. “Dak, bank hard right!” Hallam yelled.

“Hal, I can’t see!” Dakota hit back, but Hallam cut her off.

“Now, Dak, or we’re dead!” Hallam yelled.

Dakota growled and threw the controls right. Hallam saw the missile shoot past on his screen, missing by barely a meter. However, with the electronic countermeasure still pumping out interference, Cad was snap-shooting the missiles blind. The ping of cannon rounds hammering into the ship’s armor shields resonated through the cabin, then Hallam spotted that the comm system was flashing. He had no idea how long it had been that way, but it gave him an idea.

“Hang on, Dak, let me try something,” said Hallam, reaching for the communication console.

“Hang on!” exclaimed Dakota, who was still flying purely on instruments alone. “Hal, this isn’t a damn submarine. I’m supposed to be able to see where I’m going!”

Hallam ignored Dakota’s cries and enabled the comm channel.

“Return my ship and face me like a man, you coward!” snarled an incensed Cad Rikkard. Hallam had seen the mercenary angry, but this was a whole other level of wrath.

Hallam glanced to Dr. Rand and she mouthed the words “sixty seconds.” He could hear the rhythm of the Shelby Drive getting faster and knew he only had to stall the mercenary for a short time.

“You mean like how you bravely faced Ruby Rivas,” Hallam hit back. He hadn’t intended to bring up Ruby. Her name and the memory of her death had just sprung back into his mind, and now the pain stabbed at him again. Dakota was peering at Hallam, her eyes revealing the same pain and anguish that Hallam was feeling. “You know, our friend who you stabbed through the gut while she was held helplessly in front of you? That shows exactly the kind of man you are, Rikkard. You’re the coward, hiding behind your armor!” Hallam added, practically yelling through the mic.

“Draga Vex was worth a hundred of that pathetic girl!” Cad spat back. Dakota looked like she was ready to punch her way through the armor shields with her bare fists and throw herself at Rikkard’s ship. “Land and face me now,” the mercenary went on. “There’s nowhere you can go that I won’t find you. At least die with some honor and self-respect. Your cowardice and tricks won’t save you forever. I am superior to you in every way, Knight. I swear to you now that you will admit this to my face before you die.”

Hallam muted the comm channel, then roared and slammed his fist on the console. “Give me some good news, Doc…” he said, turning to Dr. Rand.

“We’re ready,” the scientist replied. “Just keep him talking for a few more seconds while I adjust the program for an in-atmosphere bridge entry.”

Hallam clicked open the comm channel again and leant in closer so that his lips were almost touching the mic. “You’re right about one thing, asshole,” spat Hallam, suddenly opening the tap on the raw emotions he’d been bottling up. “There will come a time when we meet, face to face. But it will be after we’ve stopped the bridges from collapsing. And you won’t need to worry about finding me, because I’ll find you. And then we’ll see just how superior you really are.”

A roar was fed back through the speaker, but it was more like the snarl of the reptilian monsters from the rogue world than any sound uttered by a man. Then the thrum of the Shelby Drive built to a crescendo, and the advanced mercenary fighter vanished from the planet’s atmosphere in the blink of an eye. Hallam withdrew the armor shields, and bright, swirling patterns of red filled his eyes, forcing him to squint them shut.

“We’ve done it,” said Dr. Rand, flopping back in her seat. “We’re through…”

Hallam let out a heavy sigh and reached over to Dakota, taking her hand in his. She smiled at him and squeezed back, but her grip trembled. Hallam didn’t know whether it was his hand that was shaking, or hers.

Nothing that had happened in the last hour had gone as they’d planned, but somehow, they’d scraped through. Then Hallam shut his eyes, remembering Ruby and Castell and the other renegades that had perished on the hideout. Some of us scraped through anyway… he corrected himself.

The next stop for the Wolf Squadron and leader of the Darkspace Renegades was a planet that for over a decade had been considered mere myth, like El Dorado or Atlantis. However, the distant and dangerous alien homeworld was real. And the secrets it contained were now their only hope to stop the collapse of the bridge network and prevent the human race from being wiped out of existence.

6

Hallam closed his eyes and let his body go slack, allowing the seat take his full weight. He wasn’t especially tired, despite the events in the renegade base being physically and mentally draining. It was more an attempt at meditation. A way to bleed the anger from his belly like air from a tire. Now that they were inside the relative safety of bridge space in their stolen mercenary fighter, everyone had become contemplative. It was like they’d all wordlessly agreed to observe a minute’s silence for the fallen. Cad Rikkard’s continued, relentless pursuit of Hallam, Dakota, and Dr. Rand had cost many lives. And while none were more important than any other, the loss of Ruby Rivas was already felt keenly, by Dakota in particular.

“How long until we reach the alien planet?” said Dakota, eventually breaking the silence. She was more subdued than Hallam had ever seen her. Normally, Dakota was the one to lift the cloud of gloom from any somber occasion. Not this time.

“We’re not yet heading to the thirteenth world,” replied Dr. Rand. The way she spoke the words suggested the scientist thought this fact should have come as no surprise to either of them. However, a quick glance at Dakota suggested she was as astonished by Dr. Rand’s announcement as Hallam was. “We’re currently en route to Minerva,” Dr. Rand continued. She had not looked up from her palm computer, which she used so often that it was practically an extension of her body.

Hallam felt annoyed that the scientist hadn’t offered a qualifying reason for their diversion, forcing him to once again push her for answers.

“Doc, why the hell are we heading to Minerva?” said Hallam, spinning his chair to face her. “Last I heard, there were no high-tech alien gadgets on that planet. Just a load of new frontier types, looking to strike it rich or die trying.”

Dr. Rand continued working on her computer without looking up. “Unfortunately, this vessel’s navigation system lacks the detailed data that I had uploaded to your renegade fighters,” she replied, fingers tapping lightly on the screen of the device. “Therefore, I must re-plot the course from a known point of reference.” Then she paused and corrected herself. “A point of reference known to this vessel’s computer, that is. And the closest is Minerva.”

Hallam blew out a heavy sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose with his forefinger and thumb. He felt suddenly weary and hoped that he was merely experiencing a comedown from the huge adrenaline rush of their escape. However, at the back of his mind was a perpetual worry about the long-term impact of his exposure to Randenite radiation on Doyle’s now obliterated rogue world.

“Do you still have the tablets I gave you, Mr. Knight?” asked Dr. Rand, who had paused from her work to glance up at Hallam.

Hallam couldn’t remember if he’d packed them or kept them on his person and began patting himself down as if looking for lost car keys. He then found the packet in the breast pocket of his jacket and held them out to the scientist.

“Take two of them now,” said Dr. Rand, looking down at her palm computer again.

Dakota peered around the side of her seat as Hallam popped two pills out of the foil-backed plastic packet and tossed them into his mouth. Without any water to wash them down, the bitter taste made him gag and he almost spat them out.

“Hey, are you okay?” Dakota said to Hallam. Then she quickly re-thought the question and directed a new one to Dr. Rand instead. “Is he okay? Why do you have him popping pills?”

Dr. Rand peered over the top of her computer at Dakota, annoyed at the continual interruptions to her work. “Mr. Knight will be fine, so long as he keeps taking my medication.”

The slightly non-committal answer did little to placate Dakota, nor did it make Hallam feel any less apprehensive. Dakota looked ready to press the enigmatic scientist further when the navigation computer began bleeping urgently. Dakota spun around to check it, but her silence and deepening frown suggested she wasn’t sure what the cause of the alert was. Hallam flicked to the navigation scanner readout on his terminal and was similarly perplexed.

“I don’t understand these readings,” said Dakota, again distracting the scientist from her work. “It’s like there’s something else on the bridge with us.”

Dr. Rand huffed a disgruntled sigh and leant over the back of Dakota’s chair to view the scanner readings. Then her bothered scowl morphed into one of apprehension.

“You are correct, there is another ship following us along the same bridge,” said Dr. Rand.

Hallam felt his pulse quicken and he too jumped up to view the full scanner readout. “How the hell has Cad Rikkard managed to follow us onto the bridge?” Hallam asked. He was cursing the mercenary’s persistence and ingenuity while also regretting having taunted him earlier.

“There is nothing to stop other vessels traversing the temporary bridges that my advanced Shelby Drives construct,” replied Dr. Rand, though her tone was still anxious. “However, to do so is extremely dangerous. This is why I prevented the navigation systems on your renegade fighters from being able to achieve this.”

“Dangerous, how?” asked Hallam, though he guessed he wasn’t going to like the answer.

“At best, the bridge will destabilize and we’ll be thrown violently back into normal space,” the scientist replied. Then she met Hallam’s eyes and added, “At worst, the strain will tear a rift between bridge space and normal space, causing the bridge to collapse and space to fracture along our current trajectory. If that occurs close to Minerva, it could destabilize the entire planet.”

For once, Hallam hadn’t needed to prompt the scientist for more details, though on this occasion, he almost wished she’d stuck to her usual vague responses.

“So what do we do?” asked Hallam, suddenly feeling all of the stresses that had ebbed away earlier return with a vengeance. “Should we just drop out of bridge space now?”

Dr. Rand shook her head. “Since they are travelling along the bridge this ship is creating, they would drop out almost on top of us,” she replied, returning her attention to her palm computer. “And then there would be nothing to stop them following us again, along any new bridge we created.”

The mercenary fighter shuddered, as if they were flying in atmosphere and had just hit a patch of turbulence. Then it happened again, though with even greater intensity.

“The mercenary ship is attempting to fire at us,” said Dr. Rand, who was beginning to look more uneasy with each passing second.

“I’m not picking up any impact damage,” said Dakota, frantically checking the damage readouts.

“That is because conventional weapons are useless inside bridge space. The physics of this domain are entirely different,” Dr. Rand answered. She was tapping on her palm computer with increasing rapidity, so that her fingers were almost a blur of motion. “The only damage they will deliver is to the integrity of the Shelby field.”

Hallam had studied enough about Shelby Drive technology at the CSF academy to know that the Shelby field was the end result of Dr. Rand’s remarkable invention. The Shelby Drive was not an engine in a conventional sense. Instead, it created a protective cocoon around a ship that allowed the vessel to exist within bridge space. This was despite the laws that governed this mysterious sub-dimension differing from normal space in almost every regard. Like a bubble of air underwater, it allowed ships to travel through the unique medium without being consumed by it. However, if the bubble burst, the two different physical realities would rush into contact, like matter and antimatter, with similarly destructive properties.

“The fool will kill us both,” snarled Dakota, her response suggesting she understood the dangers just as well as Hallam did. “We’re still a minute out from Minerva. Can we stay on the bridge until we get there, assuming that idiot merc keeps trying to shoot us down?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Dr. Rand, finishing the calculations she’d been running and lowering the palm computer to her side. “The risk is too great. We must drop back into normal space as quickly as possible, then create a new bridge and hope that Cad Rikkard is not as adept as I am at reinitializing Shelby Drives.”

Dakota cursed and returned to the controls, working fast to program an emergency shutdown of the Shelby Drive. The ship shuddered again as she worked, and Hallam turned an anxious eye toward the scanner. Then his heart leapt into his throat.

“He’s right on top of us,” Hallam cried out, unable to contain the swell of panic building in his gut. “I think he’s trying to ram us!”

Dr. Rand shot out of her seat, the palm computer sliding off her lap and slamming onto the deck as she did so. A split-second later, she was by Hallam’s side, scrutinizing the data. The ship was rocked again, but this time, it felt like an entire wrecking crew was outside, battering the hull with sledgehammers.

“He’s going to collapse the fields,” said Dr. Rand, placing a hand on Hallam’s shoulder. Her grip was so tight that it actually hurt. “Please give me your seat; we have no time to lose.”

Hallam practically threw himself out of the chair to allow Dr. Rand into the second seat. The scientist’s fingers immediately set to work, tapping feverishly on the computer screens.

“I suggest you take a seat and strap yourself in, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand, glancing at Hallam over her shoulder. “If this works, we will drop out of bridge space somewhat severely.”

“I don’t suppose you fancy telling us what your idea is, Doc?” said Hallam, rushing over to the auxiliary seat and pulling the harness tight around his chest.

“I’m going to reverse the Shelby field,” said Dr. Rand. “This is the basis of the Darkspace Interjector technology I created so that you could knock the Randenite tankers out of bridge space.”

“Will it work?” asked Hallam, hopefully.

“If it doesn’t, Mr. Knight, then we won’t be around to find out,” replied the scientist. Her response was so dry that Hallam wasn’t sure if it was an attempt at humor or just Dr. Rand’s usual casually unflappable style.

“You had to ask, didn’t you?” said Dakota, shaking her head at Hallam.

However, Hallam wasn’t fazed by Dakota’s snarky comment. If he was going to get scattered across half the cosmos, he’d rather know about it than sit on his hands in fear and ignorance, just waiting for his fate to be delivered to him.

“Hold on, everyone,” said Dr. Rand, sitting back and tightening her harness. “Reversing the field in three… two… one…”

The swirling red lights outside vanished and were replaced by swirling streaks of silver instead. However, their stolen fighter hadn’t entered another new sub-dimension. They were back in normal space, but spinning end-over-end like a boulder hurtling down a grassy bank. Alarms wailed from half a dozen consoles and the ship shuddered, creaked, and groaned, like it was being fed through a mangle. Hallam gripped the arms of his chair and gritted his teeth, bearing down against the intense dizziness, pain, and nausea. He could see Dakota battling to regain control of the fighter, and slowly the streaks of silver resolved into single points of light. The alarms all silenced and Minerva arced into view ahead of them. However, Hallam could already see a new addition to the star system. Cutting through space directly toward the planet was a vast strip of pulsating energy, like an aurora borealis. The bridge had collapsed, opening a channel between normal space and bridge space, and Minerva was directly in its path.

Hallam unclipped his harness and groggily staggered between Dakota and Dr. Rand’s seats to get a better look at the anomaly. Dr. Rand, who looked more clearheaded than Hallam felt, was already working on a new navigation sequence, while attempting to re-initialize their Shelby Drive. Suddenly, another alarm blared out, and Hallam recognized it as the standard collision alert tone. He craned his neck, peering out through the cockpit glass, then his mouth fell open. Cad Rikkard’s mercenary fighter was heading straight at them, spinning out of control.

“Dak, fire the dorsal thrusters, now!” Hallam yelled. Dakota reacted instantly, pushing the fighter away from the approaching ship. Seconds later, the mercenary vessel raced overhead like a spinning shuriken star.

Hallam watched Cad Rikkard’s vessel cartwheel into the darkness, but then his eyes were drawn back to the planet, which seemed to be growing larger. More than this, the planet no longer looked perfectly round. There were tufts of color sprouting from its surface, like solar flares erupting from the sun. And with every passing second, it seemed to draw closer.

“Dak, are we moving toward Minerva?” Hallam asked, though his gut told him the answer was darker and much more unbelievable.

“No, I’m registering us at a full stop, though I’m not sure I trust these readings,” replied Dakota. There was a brief pause before she added, scarcely believing her own words, “But somehow it looks like the planet is moving toward us...”

“We’ll be gone before it gets here,” said Dr. Rand, again with remarkable composure. The scientist was the only one of them who didn’t appear nonplussed by the surprising events that continued to befall them. The pulsating beat of the Shelby Drive system then began to thump through the ship. However, Hallam was still gripped by the sight of the planet, expanding in size like one of Ruby’s gum bubbles.

“What the hell is happening, Doc?” said Hallam, unable to tear his eyes off the planet.

“The spatial fracture is tearing Minerva apart and drawing it closer,” Dr. Rand replied. Her hands were finally still and her eyes were now locked onto the dying planet. As Minerva had drawn closer, Hallam could see that the tufts sprouting from its surface were parts of the atmosphere, or maybe even oceans, bleeding into space. And already he could see fissures the size of North America rippling across the planet’s surface.

“Are we safe here?” asked Dakota, also fixated on the spectacle.

“This anomaly is uniquely localized along the trajectory of the collapsed bridge,” Dr. Rand replied, still sounding strangely calm. “For the moment, the surrounding space remains uncorrupted.” Then the scientist glanced at Dakota and Hallam in turn. “But it will not remain this way. Eventually, the effect will leak along the connecting bridges, rapidly accelerating their decay. It is only a matter of time.”

Hallam peered down at his scanner readout and saw that Cad Rikkard’s fighter was still tumbling through the Darkspace. However, the course of the vessel did not align with the planet or the anomaly. At some point, the mercenary would resume control of his vessel and be able to continue his pursuit of them.

“What about Cad Rikkard, can he still follow us if we bridge again?” asked Hallam, conscious that even the destruction of a planet likely wouldn’t be enough to throw the mercenary off their scent.

“I have modulated the program to collapse the bridge entrance, seconds after we enter,” said Dr. Rand. The thrum of the Shelby Drive was beginning to dominate all other sounds in the cockpit, forcing the scientist to raise her voice to a shout. “He will not be able to follow us. But I have no doubt whatsoever that he will find us again.”

Hallam didn’t respond and neither did Dakota. Both knew that Dr. Rand was right, and both knew that there was nothing more to say. Minerva would die. Vesta too, most likely, would share its fate, if it hadn’t already. Two of the twelve bridge worlds would not make it, no matter what Hallam Knight, Dakota Wulfrun, and Dr. Shelby Rand did next. However, the fate of ten other worlds and billions of lives continued to rest on their shoulders. If this wasn’t already enough to contend with, there was also the reality that the Blackfire Squadron was still on their tail. And Hallam knew that even if all the worlds crumbled to nothing, Cad Rikkard would never stop hunting them.

7

Cad Rikkard slammed the whiskey tumbler down onto the table and topped it up from the now half-empty bottle. Alexis Black sat opposite, and Cad was conscious that she was regarding him with a judgmental eye.

“Do you have something to say?” growled Cad, growing tired of the disapproving looks.

“You’re hitting that a little hard, aren’t you?” replied Alexis, folding her arms and reclining back in the rusted metal chair, which groaned under the added weight of her armor. The mercenary’s more icy, serious persona had remained dominant ever since they had lost the renegade ship near Minerva. Cad had put this down to his own foul mood and the fact he had yet to shake off the gloom that was immersing him.

“You’re not normally one to caution against excess,” said Cad, taking another sip of the liquor. He knew Alexis was right, but he wasn’t in the mood for a lecture. He figured that if he was unable to repeatedly hit Hallam Knight in the face, he’d hit the bottle instead.

“And this isn’t like you either,” Alexis hit back, still peering at him, arms folded tightly across her chest.

Cad grunted again. Alexis wasn’t letting him off the hook, and her words were already getting to him. Cad knew that Alexis understood him better than anyone had ever done, living or dead. She probably knew him better than he knew himself, he admitted. However, Alexis wasn’t rebuking Cad for his misery and self-pity. If anything, she sounded concerned about him. And this was as unlike Alexis as it was for Cad to drink.

Cad sighed and tossed the contents of the whiskey glass into the dirt. Then he set the glass down and pushed it into the middle of the table before resting back in his chair and folding his arms. “Speak your mind, Alexis,” he said. He genuinely wanted to hear her thoughts, though he still came across sounding a little petulant.

“Okay, you asked for it,” said Alexis, leaning forward and locking eyes on Cad. Her raven skull pendant slid out from beneath the collar of her armor and dangled down. It caught the Pomonan evening sun and glinted hypnotically. “This thing with Hallam Knight is becoming an obsession. We’re taking crazy risks just to take him out, and look where it’s got us.” Alexis then gestured to the ramshackle bar they were sitting outside on the edge of a mining town on Pomona. They’d limped to the planet after crashing out of bridge space and almost getting consumed by Minerva as it was destroyed. “Who cares about these renegades and their mission?” Alexis went on. “Hell, after what we saw happen to Minerva, I even want them to succeed.”

This last comment triggered Cad and he leant forward, slamming his armored fist on the table, denting it like it was made of putty. “They killed Draga, damn it,” Cad snarled. “We agreed to make them pay for that. I can’t believe you’d back down now.”

“I’m not backing down,” Alexis snapped back, matching fire with fire. “We’ll get Knight eventually, but right now, he’s not a threat. Doyle is the one who is actually gunning for us, and it’s only a matter of time before he flips and comes after us again.”

Alexis took a deep breath, clearly trying to douse the flames inside her, though Cad knew that nothing but the death of Hallam Knight and Dakota Wulfrun would calm his own rage. And even if he could let it go, he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay angry. It didn’t matter what Alexis said, or how reasonable, or correct her arguments were. Despite her eccentricity and her outwardly frivolous behavior, Alexis wasn’t rash. Draga was the one to walk headfirst into danger, Cad was the strategist, and Alexis was the glue that made it all work. With Draga’s death, the balance of the Backfire Squadron and had been knocked out of kilter, and Cad knew it. However, to find that balance again, he had to remove the weight that was dragging him down. Cad accepted that Damien Doyle was the real threat. Alexis was right about that, as she always was. However, the difference was that Doyle had taken a shot at them and missed. Hallam Knight, on the other hand, had continued to make a fool out of him. And it was tearing him apart.

“If you want to leave, then I won’t stop you,” said Cad, coming across like a sulky teenager. Part of him almost wanted Alexis to leave so that he didn’t drag her down with him.

Alexis drew away from Cad and her eyes sharpened. If it wasn’t for Cad’s armor, the look might have even cut through his flesh. “Don’t insult me, Cad,” spat Alexis, who looked ready to tear Cad’s eyes out. “I go where you go, you know that. Or at least you should. If you want to keep going after Knight, then we go after Knight. If you want to raze Damien Doyle’s tower on Earth to the ground, then we nuke the hell out of the entire sight, and damn the consequences.” Then Alexis sat forward again, still locked on to Cad’s eyes. “And I couldn’t give a damn if the bridge worlds all crumbled to dust, so long as I’m with you. The real you. The Cad Rikkard that’s smart, as well as strong. The man I love.”

Cad cursed under his breath, and looked away. He didn’t hate it that Alexis was right. He hated that he was wrong. Cad didn’t need to prove anything to anyone, least of all himself. Hallam Knight would get what’s coming to him, one way or another. That was a vow he’d never break. Yet he had to do it the right way. The Blackfire Squadron way. He swiped the bottle of whiskey and the empty glass off the table with a swift stroke of his arm. Both sailed across the dusty outdoor seating area and smashed on the stony soil, covering the boots and socks of a man at the table to Cad’s left. The man cursed loudly into the air, then turned to Cad, red-faced and furious.

“We focus on taking down Doyle first,” said Cad, finally managing to meet Alexis’ eyes again, which remained as sharp as ever. “And we get back to work. The work we’re good at. Falken will let us know when Knight and Wulfrun crawl out from the rock they’re hiding under. And when they do, we’ll take them out, the smart way.” Cad then paused before adding with more emphasis. “We do it your way.”

It was as close to an apology as Cad could ever manage, not that Alexis would care for an apology anyway. Only the weak apologized, Cad told himself. The strong acted. The strong did what was necessary. And to be strong, he knew he needed Alexis Black more than ever.

Cad was about to stand up to leave when the man who he’d soaked with whiskey stood over him, holding a large bottle of local beer in his hand.

“Are you deaf, mate?” the man barked, showering Cad in spittle.

Cad glared up at the man, teeth and fists clenched. The stranger was wearing a scuffed, DPM tactical vest and well-worn tactical clothing, with reinforced knee and elbow pads. It was the classic outfit of a private military security contractor, one of dozens that operated on Pomona to protect the mining operations from criminal gangs.

“I’m talking to you, asshole,” the man growled again. Then the man’s three buddies, all dressed in the same style of gear, pushed their seats back and stood beside Cad’s table.

Cad shifted his gaze to Alexis, who had already slid her chair back to give her more space to move. Her subtle raising of an eyebrow was all the confirmation Cad needed that Alexis was ready to fight.

“Walk away, and maybe I only break your legs,” said Cad, glaring back up at the man. However, Cad hoped that the man would be stupid enough to ignore the warning and provoke him further. Cad needed an outlet for his frustrations and was pleased that one had conveniently presented himself. Still, Cad always liked to offer his enemies the chance to back down, and to show deference, even if ultimately they had already signed their own death warrants by disrespecting him.

The man snorted then glanced back at his buddies, “Did you hear that, lads?” the man said, laughing loudly, as if Cad had just told him a hilarious joke. “He’s only going to break my legs. That’s nice of him, ain’t it?” Then the man turned back to Cad and tipped his beer bottle upside-down, letting the frothy, tepid contents flow out over his iridescent black armor. “Oh dear, it looks like I need another beer,” the man went out. Then he gestured to his gang. “In fact, asshole, why don’t you buy us all another round, to say sorry?” The man suddenly turned his attention to Alexis and let out a shrill wolf-whistle. “And get one for the lady too. It might cheer her up a bit.”

Alexis sighed and rolled her eyes. Then she stood up slowly, hand still gripping the back of her rusted metal chair. “Let me get you something instead,” she said, smiling at the man, who beamed back at her, baring crooked, yellow teeth. However, the smirk soon left the man’s face as Alexis launched her chair at the group standing to the man’s rear. The speed and ferocity of the throw was dizzying. Before the merc had even managed to turn around, his three buddies lay scattered across the dusty soil. Two of them were merely dazed, while the third, who had the misfortune to bear the brunt of the attack, lay dead. A leg of the rusted metal chair had impaled him through the mouth and burst out of the back of his neck. It looked like a circus sword-swallowing act gone badly.

“What the f…” the merc began, but Cad had already grabbed him by the throat before he could complete the sentence. Standing up, Cad lifted the man off the ground then marched him back to his own table, slamming him down onto it. Meanwhile, Alexis began to stalk the other two mercs, who were scrambling away from their fallen comrade, staring down at the macabre scene with horrorstruck faces.

“You wanted me to get you a drink, right?” said Cad, picking up one of the other beer bottles on the table and pouring the contents into the man’s mouth. The merc spluttered and gargled as he choked on the dark brown liquid. Cad tossed away the empty bottle then repeated the act with the remaining two bottles on the table, by which time the man was already half-drowned. “There you go, is that better?” Cad said, peering into the man’s terrified eyes and smiling down at him. The merc simply nodded hysterically while coughing the frothing brown liquid out of his lungs. However, Cad was not done with the man yet. He drew his Black Prince sword and swung it down across the table with a force that could have felled a mighty redwood. The table, along with the merc, collapsed inward, both cut clean in half by the razor-sharp alien-alloy blade.

The remaining two mercs scrambled to their feet, still backing away from Alexis while begging her to spare their lives. However, their pleas fell on deaf ears. Alexis launched herself at them, flashing kicks and punches with ferocious speed and clinical efficiency. Cad turned around just in time to enjoy the spectacle of Alexis at work. Within seconds, the two remaining mercs lay motionless on the soil, their bodies twisted, broken, and bleeding. A stunned hush had fallen across the outdoor bar. None of the other patrons had dared to move. Some had not even taken a breath since Cad’s sword had been drawn.

“Are you ready to go?” asked Alexis.

Cad cleaned the blade of the unique sword on the pants of one of the fallen mercs, then sheathed it. “I’m ready,” he said, drawing in a deep, calming breath of the evening air. “Let’s get back to work.”

8

Hallam staggered clumsily into the cockpit of Alexis Black’s stolen fighter wearing one of the mercenary’s sets of the iridescent black power armor. It was one of several such suits that he’d found in the cargo hold of the ship, along with enough firearms to hold up a small town. It had taken Hallam longer to don the advanced armor than Dakota or Dr. Rand, on account of the suits being pre-sized for Alexis Black’s lithe frame. Remarkably, and also fortunately, the armor was able to modulate its fit to match its wearer, and with the help of their resident genius, Dr. Rand, Hallam’s suit now fitted properly. However, wearing the armor was one thing, but being able to control it was another entirely.

“This feels really weird,” said Hallam, flexing various limbs and joints. “It’s like it’s not even my body anymore.”

As usual, Dr. Rand was busy working on her palm computer, which was now interfaced with the stolen fighter’s navigation systems. “You will adapt to it quickly,” the scientist said without looking up from her screens. “In fact, the suit will adapt to you by monitoring your brainwaves, learning how you move, and making thousands of micro-adjustments per second. Soon, you won’t even notice that you have it on.”

Hallam dropped into the auxiliary seat a little harder than he’d intended and felt the backrest crack and the stem bend. Dakota and Dr. Rand both turned to him, eyebrows raised.

“I’ll get the hang of it,” said Hallam, feeling his cheeks flush hot.

“This armor will offer excellent protection from the alien planet’s harsh and changeable conditions,” Dr. Rand went on. She then glanced at Hallam. “It will not, however, protect these chairs against clumsy renegades,” she added in a teacherly tone.

Dakota had already turned back to the controls and was now peering out at the bright blue alien world shining in the darkness. “First, we actually have to get to this damn planet,” she said, running a hand through her tousled hair in an effort to straighten it out.

Using the navigational data gathered from Dr. Rand’s probes, Dakota had managed to pilot the fighter to a stable area of space near the alien planet. The scientist had explained that there were a number of these “gravitational oases,” as she had called them, in the star system. The trick, and also the current cause of Dakota’s unease, was charting a course between them, without getting caught in one of the millions of powerful gravitational eddies. Dr. Rand had likened this to leaping from stepping stone to stepping stone across a fast-flowing river. Get it right, and you’d reach the other side without even getting your feet wet. Get it wrong, and you’d be swept away downstream and smashed against the rocks. Unfortunately, in the case of the alien thirteenth bridge world, there were plenty of rocks and relatively few stepping stones.

During their long journey through bridge space to reach the system, Dr. Rand had regaled Hallam and Dakota with stories of her expeditions. The scientist had explained that many of the system’s planets and moons had been completely obliterated tens of thousands of years ago. The debris had created dozens of additional chaotic, swirling asteroid fields that moved unpredictably around the system’s orange sun. There had apparently also once been an abundance of space-based installations, all of which had also been destroyed. Dr. Rand had speculated that this had either been a result of collisions with other stellar bodies or from being torn apart by the gravitational eddies. The remains of these massive space stations also littered the system, turning the space around the alien world into a high-tech graveyard. And, like the asteroids and fragmentary remains of the planets, many of these alien stations littered the path they had to navigate to reach the planet.

“I have uploaded the waypoints to the navigation computer,” said Dr. Rand, attempting to slip the palm computer back into her jacket pocket before remembering that she was no longer wearing her renegade clothing. “So long as you do not deviate substantially from this course, we will be fine,” she continued, placing the palm computer into a storage compartment instead.

Dakota studied the waypoints then added in the live scan data of the alien star system. She watched as the waypoints and spaceborne hazards appeared overlaid on the cockpit glass, then blew out a long, low whistle, shaking her head. “This is going to be like flying through a hailstorm while trying not to get hit by hailstones,” she said, anxiously combing a hand through her hair again.

Hallam also examined the data, noting the dozens of obstacles that intersected the route Dr. Rand had laid out. “Come on, Doc, don’t make this too easy for her,” said Hallam, turning to dark humor to mask his own unease. “I’m sure you can pick a more challenging route.”

“Hey, you’re welcome to do the flying,” said Dakota, glancing back at him. “Except that you’d probably just rip the control column out of the console first. Or break the seat off its mountings.”

“At least Mr. Knight proved somewhat useful by determining the correct operation of this vessel’s armor shields,” Dr. Rand cut in, though it was something of a backhanded compliment. Then she turned to Dakota and added, “Assuming you are fine to pilot this vessel using the virtual view?”

Dakota shrugged and picked up a helmet that had been resting on the deck by her boots. “This tech is new to me, but at least I’ll see everything in our way,” she said, slipping on the helmet and flipping open the visor. “Whether I can avoid smashing into any of them is another matter, though...”

Hallam snorted a laugh then activated the armor shields. However, this time, he also enabled the virtual cockpit view so that they weren’t flying blind. “I wish this ship had a gun turret, like the old Randenite tankers we use to fly,” he said, nervously tightening his harness in readiness for what he assumed would be a hair-raising ride. “Those flak cannons would come in pretty handy right now to clear away some of this debris.”

Dr. Rand also tightened her harness and locked her seat dead ahead. “I’m afraid flak cannons would be of little use against fragments of metal and rock weighing millions of tons,” the scientist said. She then turned to Dakota. “So I’m afraid this falls on your piloting skill alone, Miss Wulfrun.”

Dakota laughed. “No pressure then…” she said, taking hold of the controls and puffing out her cheeks. “Here goes nothing…” she added, blowing out the breath she’d been holding and accelerating the fighter toward the planet.

Despite each of them having built up the task ahead of them to be harrowing and difficult, the first part of the journey had actually been plain sailing. On a few occasions, Dakota had been forced to detour around the wreck of an alien space station or larger asteroid, causing shrill alarms to set Hallam’s teeth on edge. However, Dakota had so far managed to stay inside the safe zone that Dr. Rand had defined. This had kept them safely away from the powerful gravitational tides that ebbed and flowed throughout the star system. Hallam had likened it to a giant buzzwire game, where the player had to navigate a metal ring through a chaotic, electrified wire maze, without touching the sides. Except the stakes in the game Dakota was playing were much more severe should she make a mistake. Should they get caught in one of the eddies, Hallam knew that the stresses could tear the ship apart. And even if they survived, they’d be pulled so far off course that they’d have to bridge back out of the system and start the whole journey again.

Dakota continued on course, sweat beading on her brow, as she was forced to constantly compensate for the variable gravity in the system. Each bump that rocked the fighter sent a flutter racing through Hallam’s gut, and each minute that ticked by felt like an hour. Eventually, the alien planet was so close that Hallam felt he could reach out and touch it. The unusual s-shaped continent was visible directly ahead, but otherwise, it looked like any other habitable world that Hallam had seen.

“You’re doing well, Miss Wulfrun,” said Dr. Rand, who had been monitoring from the second seat for the entire journey with a look of Zen-like focus on her face. “I have sent updated course details to your console to account for recent variances in the gravitational map of the system.”

Dakota acknowledged the scientist and adjusted her course, but almost immediately, the ship began to shudder, like a car driving over a cattle guard. Then alerts rang out, and Hallam saw the hull stress indicator rise sharply.

“Hold your course, Miss Wulfrun,” said Dr. Rand, with a firmness that was much needed at that moment. “This region has become more volatile since my last probe readings, but I will feed you the new data in real-time.”

A few seconds later, the alarms silenced and the ship stopped shuddering. Hallam let out the breath he realized he’d been holding and glanced at the new course on his auxiliary console. However, where their previous course neatly avoided an enormous chunk of space station, now they appeared to be heading directly for it.

“Are you seeing this too?” said Hallam, directing the question to no one in particular, though it was Dakota that answered.

“If you mean do I see the giant mass of metal totally blocking our path, then yes, I see it…” said Dakota. Then she turned to Dr. Rand. “I don’t suppose there’s any way we can go around it?”

“I’m afraid not,” said Dr. Rand. Then she met Dakota’s eyes. “But you can go through it.”

Hallam snort-laughed, drawing a dagger-like stare from Dr. Rand. He had thought she was joking, but the expression on her face suggested otherwise.

“You want to fly through the remains of an alien space station?” said Hallam, making doubly sure he had heard the scientist correctly.

“It is either that or turn back, Mr. Knight,” Dr. Rand said plainly.

Dakota and Hallam looked at each other, and both puffed out their cheeks in perfect synchronicity. Then Dakota turned back to the virtualized view of the space station fragment in front of them and pushed the throttle control forward. As they got closer, Hallam could see that the space station fragment had been compressed into an oval shape where the boundaries of the safe zone gave way to areas of intense gravitational instability. However, the cross-section seemed to be constantly shifting shape, growing wider on one axis one moment before contracting again. Occasionally, parts of the space station would be torn away and violently cast out into space as they were subjected to the powerful gravitational eddies outside the safe conduit.

“Well, this is unfortunate,” said Dakota, in what was probably the greatest understatement ever to pass a person’s lips.

“It is less than ideal,” Dr. Rand admitted, which was only slightly less of an understatement. “However, there is space to navigate through the core, if you believe you can make it.”

Dakota ran her hand through her hair again while staring, wide eyed, at the scan data. Between the twisted remains of bulkheads, framework, and whatever else the station was built from, Hallam could see that there was room for a ship their size to pass through. However, this buzzwire game was impossible to complete without touching the sides. Hallam doubted he could make it through without the ship taking a few knocks and scrapes, and he was sure Dakota had similar reservations.

“If I’m flying through that thing, then I have to do it by eye,” Dakota finally answered, removing her helmet and placing it on the deck to her side. She then also removed her armored gauntlets and flexed her fingers, as if preparing to play a concert piece on a piano. “This virtualized view just doesn’t feel real to me, and I can’t feel the stick through these damn gloves.”

Hallam understood Dakota’s need to fly by eye and deactivated the armor shields covering the cockpit glass. However, he left the shields protecting the other vital systems in place. Something told him they were going to need them. As the virtualized view gave way to reality, Hallam was confident that Dakota had made the right call. The difference was subtle, and to many perhaps imperceptible, but to a pilot’s eyes, reality trumped virtualized every day of the week. And if they were going to navigate through the constantly shifting maze in front of them, Dakota would need full access to her pilot’s instincts, unfiltered by electronic interpretation or interference.

“Are you sure this is wise, Miss Wulfrun?” said Dr. Rand, frowning at the thin sheet of cockpit glass surrounding them.

“If we were acting wisely, we’d have jumped away from this crazy system the moment we arrived,” replied Dakota, edging them ever closer to the constantly shifting structure.

Dr. Rand raised her eyebrows then unclipped her harness. “In that case, I suggest you take the second seat, Mr. Knight,” she said, slipping out into the rear of the cabin. “Two pairs of pilot’s eyes are better than one, I suspect.”

Hallam shuffled past the scientist, which wasn’t easy considering the extra bulk of their suits, and lowered himself – carefully this time – into the seat beside Dakota. She looked at him with the trepidation of someone on a rollercoaster that was inexorably rising to the summit of a huge peak, and was having second thoughts about the ride down. Dakota then reached out to where Bob the bear would normally have been sitting on the flight deck. However, the little woolen toy was not there.

“I’m sure he’s still looking out for us, Dak,” said Hallam, realizing that Dakota was about to pat the bear on the head for good luck. “This time, I’ll just have to be your lucky mascot.” Dakota didn’t look particularly inspired by his offer of standing in for Bob the bear, but Hallam was resolute. “Hey, you’ve got this, Dak. I believe in you,” he said, rapping Dakota on the shoulder with his armored knuckles. “I might be able to beat you in the ring all day, every day, and twice on Sundays, but you’ve always had a more natural feel for flying.”

Dakota snorted. “Well, half of what you just said is true.”

“Get us through this, and I’ll maybe give you a chance to prove me wrong,” said Hallam, smiling at her. It had been a little while since they’d challenged each other like this. Events had escalated to the point where their friendly rivalry had seemed trivial and childish. However, Hallam also knew that Dakota couldn’t let a challenge go unanswered. And if it helped to give her even a fraction more determination to succeed, it was worth it, because on this rollercoaster, there was no safety cage, and no hope of getting off if things got hairy.

9

Dakota eased the heavily armored mercenary fighter inside the wreckage of the alien space station. Broken bulkheads flexed and contracted, and enormous metal beams shifted position as the ship descended deeper into the station’s smashed and distorted innards. Hallam felt like they were navigating through the gullet of a giant space beast.

The light from the alien system’s star struggled to penetrate through the mass of metal, and Hallam enabled the external floodlights. This exposed the crippled structure of the space station in harsh white light. He peered out through the canopy glass, trying to form a picture of what species might have once inhabited the installation. However, the damage was far too extensive to make even a wild guess at the form its former occupants would have taken. They could have had two legs, twenty legs, or no legs at all, for all Hallam could determine.

“Did you ever see one, Doc?” asked Hallam while continuing to stare out at the wreckage. “One of the aliens, I mean.”

“Technically, in this star system, we are the aliens,” Dr. Rand corrected Hallam. “But no, I have never seen one,” she then added wistfully. “The unique orbital motion of the planet around the star causes a rapidly changing sequence of heating and cooling. The planet literally transitions from a veritable ice age to becoming hotter than Death Valley sometimes in the space of what would only be a few days on Earth. As such, anything organic on the surface perished long ago.”

An alert sounded from the navigation console. Dakota reoriented the ship and quickly pushed it lower to avoid a bulkhead that had suddenly moved toward them.

“How about you save this little chat until after we’re through the shape-shifting maze of death?” said Dakota with more than a little snark. Sweat was beading on her brow and her skin looked clammy. The pressure of piloting through the structure was clearly taking a toll on her, Hallam realized. Then another alert rang out, forcing Dakota to make a series of rapid adjustments. However, this time, she miscalculated, and there was a hollow scraping sound from beneath the ship followed by another alarm.

“Give us a two-second burst on the ventral thrusters, Dak, and nose up by three degrees. We’re grinding metal,” said Hallam, assessing the external sensor readings on his console. Dakota complied and the scraping sound and alarm both stopped.

“Remind me to apologize to Alexis Black for dinging her ship,” said Dakota sarcastically.

“I’m sure she’ll be cool about it,” replied Hallam while assimilating the updated scan data and relaying a new course to Dakota’s console. “She seems like a well-adjusted, perfectly normal citizen to me…” The updated course was then overlaid on the cockpit glass as a glowing blue line. “That new course should take you to at least the midway point,” Hallam added, sitting back and peering through the glass again. “Beyond that, I can’t get a clear reading yet.”

Dakota nodded and adjusted their trajectory to follow the new course, keeping a light touch on the controls. Droplets of sweat were now trickling down her face, betraying her outwardly cool façade.

“Do you have any idea what they look like?” said Hallam, feeling the need to fill the deathly silence between alarm wails and the grind of metal on metal.

“Seriously, Hal, can you save it?” Dak cut in, this time sounding distinctly unamused. “I for one hope I never see one of these aliens, alive or dead.”

Another alert rang out, as a sharp, ninety-degree bend approached. Dakota flipped the ship and slotted them through the narrow gap, this time without scraping a single panel.

“Nice job,” said Hallam, genuinely impressed, but he was then distracted by a solid thump on the hull. Hallam looked around, craning his neck to identify the source of the impact, hoping it was nothing serious. Then he peered directly up and saw two dead eyes that seemed to stare back at him, like a portrait in a haunted house of horrors. The eyes were set deep into the creature’s skull, which was wider than it was tall. The body attached to the head had four limbs connected to a long torso, which was covered in a material that was reminiscent of Kevlar or carbon fiber. The legs were short in relation to the body, but were stocky and powerful-looking, while the arms would have reached almost to the ground at the creature’s full height. They ended in a semi-circular arrangement of eight claw-like digits that appeared as dexterous as they looked dangerous.

“What the hell is that!” Hallam yelled, recoiling into his seat. His outburst caused Dakota to jerk the controls and scrape their left wing across a crumpled bulkhead.

“Damn it, Hal, are you trying to make me crash and burn?” Dakota snapped back. Then she followed the line of Hallam’s awestruck stare and saw the face too. She cursed, but like Hallam, she was unable to look away. Then an alarm wailed, forcing Dakota to turn back to her controls and make another rapid series of adjustments to avoid crashing head-on into the wreckage. “Doc, what is that thing?” Dakota added, eyes locked dead ahead. However, her gaze was soon drawn back to the creature that appeared to be stuck to the cockpit glass. It was impossible not to look.

“Fascinating,” said Dr. Rand, standing up so that she could study the being more closely. The scientist appeared entirely unaffected by the primal sensations of terror and revulsion that were gripping Hallam. “The vacuum of space appears to have preserved this specimen perfectly.”

“Fascinating is hardly how I’d describe it, Doc,” said Hallam, finally managing to tear his eyes away from the alien corpse and back to his scanner. There was now a red box intersecting their waypoints that hadn’t been there the last time he’d checked.

“I’d imagine that, to them, we would have looked similarly strange, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand in a mildly condescending, teacherly tone. “Though it is a shame we can’t bring this example into the hold. I would be very interested to study it further.”

“Like hell…” said Dakota, momentarily forgetting who she was talking to and hastily correcting herself. “I mean, I’d very strongly advise against that in the strongest possible terms, Dr. Rand...”

Dakota’s exaggerated outburst would have normally amused Hallam, but what he’d just seen on the scanner had chilled him even more than the freak appearance of a dead alien. “We’ve got bigger problems than catching alien stiffs,” said Hallam. He had been analyzing the updated readings from the navigation scanner to determine what the red box meant. “Our way out of this maze just closed. We’re stuck in here.”

Dakota ducked the ship underneath another fractured section of the station’s interior, and again the hollow sound of metal scraping against metal resonated through the hull. “It’s already getting almost too tight to navigate in here, Hal,” Dakota said as she wiped the sweat from her brow. “If you don’t find us another way out, we’ll become a permanent fixture, like our icy friend out there.”

Hallam continued to scrutinize the data, but every path through the wreck led to another dead end. And, worse still, the section they were in was slowly growing smaller, as the shape of the safe zone continued to flex and contract.

“We might have to make our own hole,” said Hallam, glancing at Dr. Rand and hoping she wouldn’t object to the suggestion.

“The use of explosive munitions would risk destabilizing the entire structure, causing it to collapse in on us,” Dr. Rand answered.

“Tell me something I don’t know, Doc,” replied Hallam, realizing that it didn’t take a genius scientist to make that observation. “But we might not have a choice,” he added, transferring his data to Dr. Rand’s console. He then sprang out of his seat, trying hard not to look at the lifeless being staring down at him, and stood beside the scientist. “These three routes get us the closest to the other side of this maze, Doc,” Hallam said as another scrape of metal ran along the hull. “I hate to put it on you, but if you had to choose, which one is least likely to bring this house of cards crashing down on us if we hit it with a missile?” Dr. Rand glowered up at Hallam, clearly not happy with having the decision delegated to her. Then she peered at the screen, reluctantly studying the data.

“I hate to rush you, but it’s getting pretty tight in here…” Dakota called back.

Dakota’s wrists were now moving almost continuously, nudging the thruster controls two or three times every second, just to keep the fighter away from the encroaching beams and metal bulkheads. However, the increasing frequency of the scrapes and thuds on the hull made it clear she was fighting a losing battle. Hallam tried to shut the noises out of his head and waited with bated breath for Dr. Rand to give him an answer. However, when the scientist eventually looked at him, shaking her head, his stomach tightened into a knot.

“I would need an hour to study these numbers, Mr. Knight, by which point the parameters would have already changed a dozen times,” Dr. Rand replied.

“What does that mean, Doc?” said Hallam, though he had a sinking feeling that he already knew.

“It means that your guess is as good as mine,” Dr. Rand replied, and just like that, the ball was back in Hallam’s court. “In fact, in this instance, I defer to your pilot’s instincts over my cold analysis.”

“Hal, give me a course…” Dakota called out. “Anything is better than here.”

Hallam cursed then dropped back into the second seat. He looked at the three possible routes on his screen, but none of them stood out. Disregarding the data entirely, Hallam peered out at the collapsing structure with his own eyes before making a call. There was no logic to his choice. It was just the one that felt right. Or, at least, the one that felt least wrong. Hallam overlaid the new course onto the cockpit glass, then sat back in his seat and armed the missiles.

“First one out of the collapsing space station from hell buys the drinks…” said Hallam, casting a sideways glance to Dakota.

“You’re on,” replied Dakota before blowing out a long, slow breath and thrusting the ship ahead.

The vessel’s reinforced hull armor scraped and clattered through the station, and Hallam was more thankful than ever for the advanced fighter’s armor shields. Without them, they would likely already have suffered catastrophic damage. The route ahead grew increasingly narrow and perilous, but they were almost at the coordinates Hallam had selected. More alarms then rang out as metal beams and fractured panels drew closer, like the mouth of a shark closing around them. Hallam locked a missile on to the far wall then turned to Dakota.

“It’s now or never, Dak,” said Hallam, gripping the arms of his chair. “Shoot, and then chase after that missile as if our lives depend on it.” He managed a weak smile and added, “Which it does, by the way...”

Dakota swallowed hard, then flipped open the trigger guard and fired. A split-second later, the missile had surged ahead, and at the same time, Dakota rammed the throttle forward to chase after it. The missile detonated, clouding their view ahead with fire and smoke. Hallam’s eyes grew wide as the ship surged toward the debris like an icebreaker smashing through the frozen arctic sea. Then he panicked, realizing that they were about to crash headfirst through a twisted mass of metal with only a thin covering of reinforced glass to protect them. Frantically, he cycled through the systems and activated the armor shields for the canopy. Dakota’s eyes met his, filled with terror as the realization of their error suddenly struck home. However, like the inevitable drop of a roller-coaster car over the crest of a peak, there was no turning back now.

Hallam’s grip on the arms of the seat tightened as the shields rose higher, blocking his view ahead. Then the ship was rocked and buffeted like a canoe careering through white water rapids. The wail of alarms and urgent flash of multi-colored console lights assaulted him, but somehow Dakota had maintained her grip on the controls and managed to wrestle the ship to a stop.

Hallam cancelled the alarms, and for a moment, he and Dakota just sat and looked at each other, not quite believing that they were still in one piece. He was almost afraid to lower the shields, but it was the only way to find out if they’d truly made it through. Slowly, the heavy plates of metal retracted, grinding back into their housings with none of the precision engineered smoothness of their earlier operation. However, when the view ahead was finally revealed, Hallam was confronted by the vivid blue planet and its unique s-shaped continent, bigger and brighter than ever before. Dakota let her whole body go slack and suddenly started laughing. It was so unexpected that Hallam found himself laughing too.

“I’m so glad that you two are enjoying yourselves,” said Dr. Rand, who had already turned her attention back to her palm computer. Her icy coolness never ceased to amaze Hallam. “However, I would like to make one suggestion, if I may,” the scientist added.

Hallam wiped a mirthful tear from the corner of his eye with a trembling hand and glanced back at the scientist. “And what’s that, Doc?”

Dr. Rand looked up from her palm computer and met Hallam’s eyes, the hint of a smile curling her lips. “When we’re finally done here, I would strongly recommend that we find an alternative route back to the bridge worlds...”

Hallam’s eyes widened even further, then he and Dakota burst out laughing again.

10

Hallam stood in awe, looking out at the frozen and near derelict alien city where they had set down the fighter. Despite having stood on over a dozen different worlds during the course of his short life, none had affected him quite so profoundly as the alien planet. This was not just another world, Hallam realized, but the remains of another civilization. A civilization that had lived had died long before humanity had even taken to the stars. His feeling of wonder was soured by the understanding that the human race would suffer the same fate as this unknown species, should they fail in their mission.

Dr. Rand had selected the landing site because of the low levels of Randenite radiation in the area. However, as a precaution, she’d also rigged up her palm computer to the advanced power armor they were all wearing to provide what she’d called an “early warning system.” It was essentially a Geiger counter for Randenite radiation, which would alert them should they stray too close to a potentially harmful source. Ironically, the scientist’s early warning system would also double as a detection device, highlighting potential alien tech for them to recover. However, recovering the components would again expose Hallam to dangerous levels of radiation in the process. This time, the power armor would offer some protection in addition to his radioresistant biology, but Hallam still didn’t relish the prospect of getting dosed again. Yet he’d also accepted that there was no other way to retrieve the items Dr. Rand needed.

“It seems that we’ve arrived in spring,” said Hallam, looking at the thick sheets of ice that blanketed most of the structures surrounding the plaza. Much of it appeared to be melting rapidly, creating streams of running water on the surface, along with some spectacular waterfalls, pouring out of the alien skyscrapers in the distance.

“In effect, you could class this as spring, though it will be a very short season indeed,” replied Dr. Rand. As usual, she was studying her palm computer, which was now attached to the armor surrounding her left forearm. “However, in only a few hours’ time, this whole city will be hotter than a desert. Naturally, we should aim to be long gone before that occurs.”

There was an ominous creak of metal from somewhere far above them, and Hallam anxiously surveyed the surroundings, noting that part of one of the taller towers was breaking loose. Chunks of metal, glass, and other building materials splintered away moments later and tumbled to the ground, crashing through the side wall of a smaller building, which crumbled like sand.

“Hopefully, this place won’t kill us before it cooks us,” said Hallam, who was now far warier of the broken and decaying structures surrounding them.

“Which way do we head first, Dr. Rand?” said Dakota, stepping off the rear ramp of the mercenary fighter, which immediately began to whir shut behind her. She stopped beside Hallam and handed him an assault rifle, similar to the one Alexis Black and Cad Rikkard had employed to deadly effect at Dr. Rand’s hideout. The scientist had refused a weapon and was instead carrying the shielded metal case they needed to safely retrieve the alien components.

“I am detecting promising readings toward the south,” said Dr. Rand, using the palm computer as a sort of radar for alien tech. “During our descent to the surface, I observed that there was something resembling a small spaceport nearby. This could be a good place to search for what we need.”

Hallam racked the weapon and held it ready, then nodded to Dakota. “Last one to find some alien tech buys the drinks?” he said, offering up another friendly challenge.

“No offense, Hal, but I don’t intend to get anywhere near this alien gear,” replied Dakota. “But if you manage to score what we need, I’ll crack open a bottle of champagne. Assuming we manage to get back to civilization, that is.”

Hallam let out a short laugh and pointed back to the fighter. “Given that we’re flying Alexis Black’s ship, I bet she already has a champagne fridge concealed in there somewhere.”

“Let’s find something worthy of celebration first, shall we?” Dr. Rand cut in, ever the voice of reason.

Dr. Rand led the way, her eyes frequently flicking from the palm computer to the apocalyptic cityscape ahead of them. The gravity on the planet was currently over twenty percent higher than an Earth-normal one g. However, their advanced power armor compensated for the difference automatically, to the point where it felt no different from strolling across any of the bridge worlds. As they walked, Dr. Rand had explained that during the course of its eccentric orbit, the gravity on the planet fluctuated from roughly half a g to over two. This was apparently “mild” compared to the other planets in the system, some of which suffered far more severe extremes. Others, as they had already discovered during the perilous journey to the alien world, had been completely torn apart from the stresses.

Hallam and Dakota remained vigilant, ready to use the weapons should anything spring out and attack them. However, Dr. Rand’s assurances that they were likely the only living things on the planet made him feel more at ease than he had been on Doyle’s rogue world. The real danger was from the radiation or the risk of outstaying their welcome and getting cooked when the planet’s orbit swung it closer to the system’s star.

The group had walked through the alien streets for ten minutes but still found nothing. The electronic whine of Dr. Rand’s early warning system had frequently forced them to find alternative routes through the broken city. As such, their path had been as chaotic as the planet’s orbit. They were now standing at the perimeter of a large, oval structure with a courtyard area attached to it that had once been cordoned off by a wall. However, like much of the city, which was now glistening in the clear, sunlit sky because of the fast-melting ice and frost, the wall had seen better days. Hallam and Dakota were able to punch through and tear open a section of the barrier with ease, thanks to their rugged power armor.

Hallam stepped through the new opening first, checking the corners, paranoid that one of the wide-headed alien inhabitants was lying in wait to ambush them. Then all thoughts of being attacked vanished as he saw what was sitting in the middle of the courtyard. Though it conformed to no design language he’d ever seen before, it was clearly a spaceship. There were engines and thruster ports and a discernable cockpit. However, it was wider than it was long, with arcing, wing-like structures that swept behind it into a sharp vee, almost like a manta ray, but less graceful. In all, it was perhaps only slightly bigger than the mercenary fighter they’d arrived in, but what it lacked in size it more than made up for in grandeur. It was the most incredible-looking machine Hallam had ever seen.

“I’d love to take that thing for a spin,” said Hallam as Dakota stepped through the opening and drew alongside. Dr. Rand wasn’t far behind.

Dakota let out a long, low whistle. “What are the chances we can get it fired up?” she said, flashing her eyes at Hallam. Both of them eagerly stepped toward the alien ship, but then Dr. Rand’s palm computer began to output a low, pulsing tone.

“Do not move any closer!” barked Dr. Rand, making it sound like they were about to trigger a tripwire. Hallam and Dakota immediately froze and peered at the scientist with wide, anxious eyes. “That vessel is emitting a powerful Randenite signature…” Dr. Rand continued, leaving Hallam hanging for several more seconds with his heart in his mouth. “However, it appears to be safely shielded,” Dr. Rand then added. “We can approach it without risk.”

“Jeez, Doc, you had me worried for a second then!” cried Hallam, blowing out a heavy sigh.

“You and me both, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand, for once not retorting with some mildly condescending advice or comment. “However, we are fortunate to have discovered it. That vessel may well be our best chance to retrieve a working drive core.”

“Well, it’s certainly about time we had some damn luck,” said Dakota, moving out ahead of the others onto what they now knew was a landing strip.

Hallam couldn’t argue with Dakota’s sentiment, but at the same time, he still had a hard time believing it was going to be so easy. And, as they reached the halfway point to the alien ship, his hunch proved itself to be correct. The ground began to shake, breaking the remaining ice off some of the taller buildings, while completely shaking several others to the ground. Hallam, Dakota, and Dr. Rand dropped to their knees as the quake intensified, thankful for the fact they were out in the open, rather than standing under one of the many collapsing buildings.

“Doc, tell me this is normal,” said Hallam, hoping that they hadn’t decided to visit the alien world on its ultimate doomsday.

“Because of the frequent cycles of heating and cooling, surface tremors are common,” Dr. Rand replied, though Hallam could tell there was a “but” coming. “But this one is particularly severe…”

The quake continued for several more seconds, during which time an already heavily damaged skyscraper over a kilometer tall began to collapse. Rock and metal thudded into the ground several hundred meters from their position with an almighty roar, like a hundred simultaneous thunderclaps. Hallam watched wide-eyed as an enormous cloud of dust billowed up into the sky.

“Take cover!” Hallam shouted, and seconds later, he was hit by the advancing cloud. He turned his head and shut his eyes, burying his face into the sleeve of his armor, but the thick, acrid dust still fought its way in through his nose and mouth, coating him from head to toe.

Finally, the ground stopped shaking and the dust began to settle, leaving Hallam retching black mucus onto the landing strip. Wiping the grime from his eyes, he saw that Dakota and Dr. Rand had been similarly incapacitated, both coughing and retching the vile-tasting mixture from their noses and mouths. However, they were still alive, and that was all that mattered, Hallam realized. Had the quake struck minutes earlier, when they were still walking through the alien streets, they would likely not have been so fortunate.

“Is everyone okay?” Hallam called out, scrambling toward Dakota and Dr. Rand while continuing to spill dark mucus from his nose and mouth, and claw the dust from his eyes.

“I’ve been worse,” said Dakota in between hacking coughs. “But not much worse.”

Hallam crouched beside the others and peered up at the alien ship, which was unscathed, besides the fresh coating of dust that was now clinging to its hull.

“Let’s get what we need and get the hell out of here,” said Hallam, standing up and hurrying toward the vessel. However, he’d barely made it two paces before the ground around them started creaking and groaning, like an old shipwreck that had been hauled up from the depths of the ocean. He halted, as if he’d inadvertently walked out onto a partially frozen lake, and was about to warn the others not to follow, when the ground around them collapsed inward.

Hallam, Dakota, and Dr. Rand were swallowed by a sinkhole and dragged down through the rock and dirt. Hallam tumbled to the bottom of the crater, his armor saving him from what otherwise would have certainly been severe cuts, bruises, and even fractures from the material clattering against his body. The sinkhole continued to expand, eventually consuming the alien vessel too. The ground beneath the ship dropped suddenly, forming a slope, down which the alien ship began to slide, directly toward Hallam and the others.

“On your feet!” cried Hallam, digging Dr. Rand out from under the rubble and hauling her upright. “We’re in trouble!”

Dakota threw the remaining rocks off her body and climbed to her feet, only to see the alien ship rushing toward them.

“Climb out, now!” Dakota cried, trying to scramble up the slopes of the sinkhole, but the loose soil just came away in her hands, and she only succeeded in digging deeper into the walls.

“We’ll have to brace it,” said Hallam, moving ahead then standing firm, digging his heels into the ground.

“Are you mad? That thing will crush us like eggs!” Dakota called back, still trying to climb out.

“Not in these suits, Dak,” Hallam called back. “The three of us can stop it, but only if we do it together.”

Dr. Rand ran to Hallam’s side and braced herself as he had done. “Miss Wulfrun, there’s no time. You must help us!” the scientist cried, her composure finally giving way, like the ground around them.

Dakota growled and joined the others as the ship thudded into the base of the crater, killing some of its momentum, but not enough to slow it fully. The landing struts crumpled beneath the vessel’s hull, dipping its wide nose into the dirt moments before it collided with three pairs of armored hands. Hallam felt his fingers dig into the alien metal as he was driven back toward the far wall of the crater, feet grinding across its rocky base. He pushed back, employing the full power of the advanced suit to slow the ship’s advance. Hallam felt his heels hit the rocks at the far wall and he pushed harder, the metal of both the alien vessel and the advanced power armor creaking under the immense strain. However, with barely a meter to spare, their efforts finally paid off, and the alien vessel eased back and finally came to a stop. The wide nose of the ship then tipped up out of the ground and away from them as they continued to push against it with all their augmented might. Hallam pulled his hands out of the alien hull and collapsed back against the slope of the crater, heart thumping and lungs burning. He glanced across to Dakota and Dr. Rand, who were similarly breathless and shell-shocked.

“I take it back,” wheezed Dakota, lying on her back and staring up at the sky. “We’re still fresh out of luck.” Then she sat up and anxiously looked around the crater before cursing. “The weapons are gone,” she said, throwing her hands out wide. “And the shielded case. They must have been buried under the rubble when we fell.”

Hallam and Dr. Rand were silent as the gravity of Dakota’s observation struck home. Losing the rifles was merely an inconvenience, but the shielded case was an absolute necessity. Without it, they would be unable to transport the alien components away from the planet, even if they managed to find what Dr. Rand needed. Suddenly, Hallam’s eyes were drawn to the glint of something metallic, part buried under the rubble, below the alien ship. He crawled over to it and dug through the mud and stones before laughing out loud.

“You do find amusement in the most unusual places, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand, slipping back into her usual snootier persona. “May I ask what is so worthy of mirth this time?”

Hallam turned around and held up the shielded case. “Eat your heart out, Bob the bear. We’ve finally had some luck,” said Hallam, tossing the metal case over to Dr. Rand. “Now let’s get the alien gear we need and leave before this damn planet decides to throw us another curveball.”

11

More than three hours had elapsed since the tremor that caused the alien spaceship to tumble into the sinkhole, along with Hallam, Dakota, and Dr. Rand. During this time, Dr. Rand had worked tirelessly. She had not only managed to open an access hatch into the ship, but she had also located the alien progenitor to her Shelby Drive. The scientist was currently in the process of stripping the drive down to the point where Hallam would be needed to retrieve the vital components.

This delay had afforded Hallam and Dakota a welcome respite from being chased and shot at. However, as much as the desolate planet was peaceful in a macabre sort of way, the passage of time presented its own dangers. In the hours they had been waiting, the planet had grown significantly warmer. All traces of ice and frost had gone, and the external temperature had already reached nearly seventy degrees Fahrenheit and was climbing steadily higher all the time.

“I wonder what they were like,” said Hallam, sitting alongside Dakota on top of the alien ship. With the ice melted and the sun shining down on them, the city looked somehow more alive, despite the broken buildings and absence of any living creatures.

“They were probably a bunch of assholes, like us humans,” said Dakota, smiling at him.

“Speak for yourself,” replied Hallam, nudging her with his shoulder.

Dakota returned the smile, then stared into the distance, out beyond the limits of the alien city. “I’m sure there was a mix of good people and bad, just like on Earth and the bridge worlds,” she said, her expression turning more wistful. “I hope they were mostly decent. I’d like to think so.” Then she nudged Hallam and added, “But I don’t reckon they ever had a dynamic duo quite like Hallam Knight and Dakota Wulfrun.”

Hallam nodded, playing along. “If they had, then they wouldn’t have ended up like this,” he said, gesturing to the apocalyptic landscape. Then his thoughts turned to Damien Doyle and the tycoon’s stubborn refusal to accept the truth about bridge travel. “Something must have gone badly wrong, though, for it to end like this,” Hallam added, suddenly feeling weighed down by the immense loss of life that must have occurred on the planet. “It’s hard to believe they couldn’t have known what was coming. I mean, if the doc saw it, then a civilization with the sort of technology these aliens had must have known.”

Dakota drew in a deep breath through her nose, which was still covered in dusty grime, and let it out, shrugging. “Who knows… Maybe they had their own version of Damien Doyle, or worse.”

Dr. Rand poked her head out of the hatch in the alien ship and spotted Hallam and Dakota chatting. “I believe I’m at a point where your services are required, Mr. Knight,” the scientist called over.

Hallam acknowledged Dr. Rand then pushed himself up, helping Dakota to her feet too. “Well, at least we still have a chance to stop this from happening to Earth and the bridge worlds,” he said, walking along the hull of the ship toward the open hatch, growing more nervous with each step. “Assuming I can get what the Doc needs without X-raying myself to a crisp, that is...”

Dakota followed Hallam through the hatch opening and into what appeared to be the engineering section of the alien vessel. Metal panels, bolts, and other objects were strewn across the deck, exposing part of the ship’s inner workings. As Hallam got closer and crouched down at Dr. Rand’s side, the resemblance to her Shelby Drive technology became more obvious. However, the materials used and the precision and detail of the manufacturing was far more advanced and intricate than the Shelby Drives Hallam had seen. Like the rest of the ship, the processes and technologies that the alien species had used were unknown to human minds.

“This is as far as I could get without exposing myself to a dangerous level of radiation,” said Dr. Rand. “I have marked the objects I require with these strips of ribbon torn from my base layer flight suit,” the scientist went on. She then indicated five separate parts of the alien bridge drive. “All you need to do is grab them and twist in a counter-clockwise direction to detach them. The components will then unlock and should slide out easily. Quite ingenious really. It would have made repairing any damage to the system very simple.”

Hallam leant in closer. The components Dr. Rand had indicated all looked quite small, with the largest no bigger than an orange. “Should I remove my gloves first?” Hallam asked, concerned that in the heat of the moment, he’d accidentally apply too much pressure and break the precious tech. “I wouldn’t want to crush these things while I’m taking them out.”

“You won’t,” replied Dr. Rand, pulling the metal storage case toward her. “Judging from the alien cadaver we observed while approaching the planet, these beings would have possessed incredible prehensile strength thanks to their eight powerful digits. Without the assistance from the armor, you would be unable to remove these components.”

Dr. Rand then opened the metal case and removed a medical injector, which was the only object inside. Hallam had presumed it to have been empty and scowled at the implement as the scientist angled it toward him.

“This will counteract the effects of the radiation for long enough to allow us to return to the system of bridge worlds,” Dr. Rand said. She then pointed to an attachment on the base of the device. “This will modify the dose according to the level of radiation exposure you receive. As soon as you have placed the components into the case, then close it and the panel exposing the bridge drive system, you must immediately inject this into your neck.” The scientist placed the device on the deck alongside the open case, then peered at Hallam with a look that made him instantly nervous. “Once we return, I will need to find a medical facility to treat you more fully,” the scientist added. “It is unfortunate that we had to abandon my hideout, since I had all the necessary equipment there.”

Hallam snorted. “More unfortunate for me, I think…” he said, dwelling on his future prospects should Dr. Rand not be able to treat him for the effects of exposure.

“Maybe Cad Rikkard didn’t destroy it,” suggested Dakota. “I doubt he had time to nuke the place before he took off after us.”

Dr. Rand contemplated this possibility for a moment. “It is worth investigating,” she conceded. “However, we must first retrieve these components and navigate safely away from this star system.”

Hallam let out a weary sigh, resigning himself to the unenviable task ahead. “In other words, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” he said, shooting a half-hearted smile at Dr. Rand. “I think it’s time you both put some distance between yourselves and this ship. It’s about to get a little hot in here.”

Dr. Rand and Dakota stood up and made their way underneath the hatch. Sunlight was streaming in from outside, making the vessel feel like an oven warming up.

“It’s getting pretty hot outside too,” said Dakota, shielding her eyes from the glare. “I think it’s jumped another five degrees already.”

Dr. Rand nodded and added her own words of caution. “Limit your exposure as much as you can, Mr. Knight, and seal the objects inside the case quickly. We’ll meet you by the building outside. Between the hull of this ship and our armor, that will be a safe enough distance.”

Dakota and Dr. Rand climbed out of the hatch, and Hallam gave them a solid couple of minutes to get clear of the ship. Then he turned his attention to the alien components. Wrapping his fingers around the first and largest component, he sucked in a deep breath and twisted. The component slid smoothly in a counterclockwise circle and Hallam heard a click. With more than a little reticence, he pulled it toward him and the object came free without any trouble. A strange red glow emanated from the two exposed ends of the machine where it had connected to the drive, and Hallam felt his stomach flutter. The subsequent swell of nausea only made him more anxious, as if the exposure was already doing him harm. Come on, get a grip… he told himself, placing the component into the case and moving swiftly on to the next one. Just get this done and then you can get the hell out of here.

The second component came free as easily as the first, and again Hallam felt a kick of nausea as the glowing ends of the conduits were exposed. The third and fourth components also presented no problems. However, by the time Hallam had placed them both into the case, he knew the nausea was not simply down to nerves. His head was now swimming, and his skin felt clammy. Sucking in another breath, he grabbed the fifth component and twisted, but this time, it didn’t budge. “Come on, damn you!” Hallam growled, adding more pressure, and slowly, the object began to turn. Precious seconds ticked by and Hallam was starting to lose both his strength and his vision. Come on, come on! he urged himself, unwilling to let go and cut his losses, despite already having four of the five devices Dr. Rand wanted. Finally, the component clicked and Hallam yanked it free, tossing it into the case and slamming it shut. Shuffling back from the opening, he grabbed the thick panel and pressed it back in place over the drive section, sealing it shut with another satisfying click.

Hallam shot upright, knowing he had to inject himself and get out of the alien vessel as quickly as possible, but the sudden movement made him dizzy. His eyes went dark and he felt a sharp pain to the back of his head before realizing that he’d fallen against the side wall. He shook his head, but he’d forgotten what he was supposed to be doing. The last thing he remembered he was sliding the metal covering back into place, but how long ago that was he had no idea. Hallam then spotted the injector still sitting beside the metal case, and he cursed, remembering that he had yet to administer the device. He crawled over to it, feeling dizzy and weak. Reaching for the injector, he clumsily knocked it further away, then his eyes went dark again. The feel of cold metal pressing against his face brought him back to his senses, and he discovered he was lying in his own drool. He saw the injector, but it was still tantalizingly out of his reach. He tried to stretch for it again, but he was too weary to move.

At least when they come looking for me, they’ll find the case, Hallam thought as he allowed his face to drop back into the pool of his own spittle. That’s something, at least…

Hallam thought he heard voices but was unable to tell if they were real or just his imagination. Then he felt himself being flipped over, and a blurry silhouette appeared above him, with a head that seemed wider than it was long. The image resolved and the alien he’d seen frozen in space was standing before him. He laughed, turning his head from side to side, seeing that the ship was alive with activity and a full crew of the alien beings.

“We come in peace…” Hallam said out loud, laughing again. He realized that his mind must have been playing tricks on him, and played along. “Take me to your leader…” he added, though the words all slurred into one long, incomprehensible murmur. Then there was a hissing sound, like an angry snake, and Hallam flinched as he felt a sharp prick penetrate his skin. The alien is real, and it’s eating me! he thought, panic suddenly replacing his delirious hallucinations. “Don’t eat me!” Hallam cried out, and this time, the words sounded clearer in his ears. His vision began to sharpen, and the alien face was replaced with that of Dakota Wulfrun. She was staring down at him, looking as much confused as she was relieved.

“Don’t eat you?” Dakota said, cocking an eyebrow at Hallam. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Hallam felt the dizziness and nausea recede like a fast-moving tide. It its place, he was overcome with a heady mix of relief, gratitude, and embarrassment.

“Don’t ask…” said Hallam, accepting Dakota’s hand. She then hauled him upright, though Hallam was already feeling a lot stronger.

Dakota waved the injector at Hallam. “Forgetting something?”

Hallam took the device, and before Dakota realized what was happening, he’d pressed it to her neck. It hissed again, delivering a dose of Dr. Rand’s anti-radiation medication into Dakota’s blood stream.

“Ow, Hal, what was that for?” Dakota complained, rubbing her neck.

“You’re not radioresistant, Dak, so you need this more than I do,” said Hallam, picking up the metal case. “But thanks for checking on me, Dak. I owe you one.”

Dakota rested a hand on the back of Hallam’s neck then gently pulled him closer and kissed him on the forehead. “That’s several you owe me, I should think, but you’re welcome,” she said with a warm smile. “Now let’s get out of here.”

Dakota climbed out of the alien ship first, then Hallam passed her the case and pulled himself out too. He was met with a blast of dry heat from the blazing sun overhead and guessed that the temperature must have risen to at least ninety. The suit kept his body cool, but the contrast between his chilled insides and the roasting heat on his head did nothing to abate the residual nausea he was experiencing. They both jumped off the stricken alien vessel and ran to meet Dr. Rand, who was waiting by the large oval-shaped building. Dakota handed the scientist the shielded case and she took it, cradling it to her chest before meeting Hallam’s eyes with a concerned frown.

“How are you feeling, Mr. Knight?” Dr. Rand asked, coming across sounding more like a psychiatrist than a physician.

“I feel like I’m recovering from an all-night drinking session,” replied Hallam, shielding his head from the sun with his hand.

Dr. Rand quickly examined Hallam, then tapped away at her palm computer, wearing a pensive scowl the whole time.

“Just tell me straight, Doc,” said Hallam, already fearing the worst.

The scientist lowered her arm and met Hallam’s eyes, though her apprehensive frown remained. “Miraculously, Mr. Knight, you appear to be fine,” Dr. Rand said, and Hallam felt his knees go weak. If it wasn’t for the power assistance of his armor, he’d probably have fallen down. “As are you, Miss Wulfrun,” the scientist added, glaring at Dakota. “That was very brave, young lady, but also rather foolish. You are lucky that Mr. Knight injected you immediately, otherwise we would now be in a very different situation.”

“Maybe fortune favors the brave after all,” said Dakota, tapping the metal case in Dr. Rand’s arms. “I think we’ll need a lot more of both before we’re through.”

“I suspect you are correct, Miss Wulfrun,” replied Dr. Rand with a fatalistic air. She then gestured to the door of the alien building they had gathered beside. “Unfortunately, the ground quakes destroyed many of the buildings adjacent to this facility, cutting off our exit. We will have to go through this building and detour along the unaffected streets to reach the ship.”

Hallam used his augmented strength to force open the door to the oval-shaped building. “Anything to get me out of this sun,” he said, slipping inside. “I just hope the ship hasn’t taken any damage.”

Compared to the heat of the outside, the inside of the building still felt cool and fresh. However, it was also pitch black, save for the light bleeding through the open doorway. Dr. Rand and Dakota followed him inside, and the scientist used her palm computer as a torch to help guide the way.

“I wonder what this place was used for?” said Hallam, pulling open random doors and what looked like cupboards or storage areas. “A passenger terminal building maybe?”

“I would rather you not randomly open every door you find, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand, sounding like a teacher scolding an unruly pupil on a field trip. “We do not know what may be contained inside this structure.”

Hallam snorted. “I’ve already had my one alien encounter for the day, Doc,” he said, recalling the face of the dead alien that they’d collided with before landing on the planet. “It’s smooth sailing from here on in.” Hallam then forced open another compartment door and found himself staring directly at an alien warbot, not unlike the one they had encountered on Doyle’s rogue world. Hallam jumped back and cursed. Dakota ran to his side then did a double-take at the machine.

“Damn it, Hal, stop messing around!” Dakota snapped, punching Hallam on the arm. “The last thing we need is to be chased around alien backstreets by one of these lunatic machines.”

Dr. Rand hurriedly scanned the bot with her palm computer, presumably attempting to work out if the machine was still active. However, for once, Hallam already knew the answer before the genius scientist did, because set within the cranial unit of the alien machine was a thin, glowing blue eye.

12

The single line of blue light in the alien warbot’s cranial unit narrowed to a vee and focused on Hallam. It then stepped out of the compartment in the wall, shaking off thousands of years’ worth of accumulated dust, and emitted a rapid jumble of high-pitched warbles. Hallam backed away, holding up his hands in the hopeless expectation that the alien machine would understand such a gesture. Yet the warbot continued to advance, flexing and shaking loose its limbs like someone waking from a long, deep sleep.

“Doc, what do we do?” said Hallam, hopeful that the genius scientist had some brilliant idea to deactivate the alien machine. However, Dr. Rand looked just as terrified and as clueless as Hallam did.

“Not activating it in the first place would have been my suggestion, Mr. Knight,” Dr. Rand replied snarkily. “I suggest we all continue to back away slowly and move toward the exit. With any luck, it will just leave us alone…”

The machine turned its vee-shaped blue eye to the scientist as she spoke, then regarded Dakota with equal intensity. All the while, it continued to emit the same warble of noise, repeated over and over again. It was like the warbot was repeating a question or a demand and growing frustrated at being ignored.

“WE ARE JUST LEAVING…” said Hallam, speaking slowly and loudly like an ignorant monolingual tourist.

The warbot’s eye than landed on the case that Dr. Rand was carrying. The thin blue line briefly transformed into a chaotic waveform, as if the machine’s cranial unit had suddenly become an oscilloscope. A whole new array of squawks and warbles then followed, all as incomprehensible as the others.

Dr. Rand’s palm computer then started bleeping, and she checked it hurriedly. “The machine is scanning us,” said Dr. Rand, frowning down at the computer. “Or, to be precise, it is scanning the case.”

The warbot raised its long, claw-tipped arm and pointed at the metal case, then uttered another garbled mix of squawks and warbles. To Hallam’s ears, they came across sounding more aggressive, despite him having no evidence to believe so. He glanced at Dr. Rand, but the look on her face suggested in no uncertain terms that she was not about to give up the alien components. Instead, she had clamped the container tightly to her chest while retreating at an even faster pace.

“It may believe we are thieves,” said Dr. Rand, offering the first and only theory as to the machine’s behavior. “I encountered several of these bots on my first expedition. We came to believe that they were guardians of some kind. Perhaps enforcers of the law.”

Hallam continued to slowly back away, but the machine matched him step for step. It continued to utter its string of warbles, with each statement growing louder and more urgent. “Something tells me this thing isn’t going to take no for an answer,” he said, watching the machine’s vee-shaped eye sharpen into an arrowhead.

The warbot then appeared to notice that Hallam and the others were nearing the door. It gave up on its attempts to communicate and adjusted its stance, raising its claw-tipped arms in front of its body. Hallam may not have known the language the alien machine was speaking, but he understood its newly-adopted posture well enough. The language of violence needed no translation. A fight was the last thing Hallam wanted. He had already seen a similar warbot in action before, against Cad Rikkard on Doyle’s rogue world, so he knew its capabilities were not to be underestimated. However, unlike Cad, who had wielded his medieval sword against the machine, Hallam was unarmed. The warbot uttered another warble, louder and more guttural, like fingernails scraping across a chalkboard. Perhaps it was an ultimatum, Hallam guessed, but one thing he knew for sure was the machine wasn’t going to let them leave.

“Doc, run!” Hallam cried, squaring off against the machine, and hoping that his advanced power armor was as formidable as Cad Rikkard made it seem.

“That machine possesses twice your strength, even accounting for the armor,” Dr. Rand called back, backpedaling faster than ever. “I do not believe that fighting it alone is wise…”

Dakota stepped beside Hallam and also raised her guard. “Then it’s a good job there’s two of us,” she said as the narrow vee-shaped eye of the warbot adjusted its focus to her. “We’ll hold it off while you run back to the ship and get it fired up.”

The warbot let out another rasping warble, this time aimed at Dakota, but Hallam was not about to let it make the first move. He stepped forward and threw a series of powerful punches, slamming his armored fists into the wide head of the machine. Each blow landed cleanly, sounding like a hammer striking an anvil. However, while the machine staggered back from the force of the impacts, it remained standing. And, other than a few dents to its cranial unit, it also appeared undamaged.

Dakota then advanced, taking advantage of the warbot’s momentarily unsettled footing. However, she misjudged the speed with which the machine was able to recover, and was caught solidly on the chest by one of its long arms. The blow sent her crashing through the side wall and into the cavity behind it.

Hallam wanted to call out to her, to check she was okay, but there was no time. The alien machine had quickly turned its attention back to him, blue eye aimed at him like a dagger. The warbot swung at him, but Hallam caught the claw-like appendage and tried to force the machine back. The gears and motors in his power armor groaned from the immense strain of the contest. Yet despite applying the full measure of the suit’s not inconsiderable power, Hallam could not overcome the machine and was thumped against the wall opposite to Dakota. The machine let out a shrill warble and tried to grab Hallam with its other claw-like hand, but before its grip had closed around Hallam’s arm, Dakota pounced from the rear, hammering strikes into the machine’s head and back. The warbot spun around and swung at Dakota, missing her face barely by an inch. Hallam took his chance and drove a kick into the base of the machine’s spine and forced it down onto its knees. Hallam and Dakota both followed up with wild haymakers. Both punches struck true, sandwiching the machine’s cranial unit between their armored fists. This time, the warbot fell, and appeared to be momentarily disorientated. Hallam tried to strike it again, but the machine rolled away, displaying amazing spatial awareness and intelligence. Hallam could see two more deep dents in its cranium, but the warbot was still remarkably undamaged. He looked at his metal gauntlet and realized the same could not be said for his power armor. The glove had cracked in the process of pummeling the machine, and Hallam was suddenly aware of pain shooting along his entire arm. He knew his suit would break before the warbot did, which meant retreat was their only option.

Dakota stepped forward, ready to attack again, but Hallam caught her arm and held her back. “Dak, we have to go; we can’t beat this thing,” he said as the machine began to right itself, warbling even more aggressively. “I almost busted my suit with that last punch,” he added. Then he noticed that the warbot’s eye was flickering, as if its program was glitching. “Besides, I think smacking it on the head just made it worse.”

The alien machine appeared to be regarding Hallam and Dakota with more caution than it had done earlier. It then peered into the wall cavity that had been exposed by Dakota’s earlier fall, reached inside and tore out a thick metal pipe.

“I think you’re right,” said Dakota, eyes widening at the sight of the warbot’s improvised weapon. “I don’t know how to speak alien warbot, but I know hacked off when I see it…”

Hallam and Dakota turned and ran, hearing the thud of heavy metal legs charging after them. They crashed through the door at the opposite end of the building and saw Dr. Rand waiting at the entrance to a side street.

“This way!” Dr. Rand cried out, waving them over with the shielded metal case.

The warbot smashed through the wall to the side of the door and skidded to a halt, rubble falling from its metal skeleton. Its eye scanned the surrounding area, spotting Hallam and Dakota racing toward the side street as fast as their armored legs could carry them. Hallam glanced back and cursed, realizing that the machine was gaining on them.

“We need to move faster!” Dakota cried, also noticing the rapid advance of the alien machine.

Hallam would have usually replied with a sarcastic comment about Dakota stating the obvious, but she suddenly disappeared from his side. There was sharp, metallic-sounding clatter, like trash cans being rammed by a car. Hallam slid to a stop, sparks flying from his metal boots as they ground across the surface of the alien street. Turning back, he saw that Dakota had been tripped by the metal pipe the machine had been holding and sent hurtling through the silvered window of a nearby building. The warbot then threw itself at Hallam, forcing him to tear his eyes away from the window, despite his gut twisting in a knot with concern for Dakota. Acting on instinct, Hallam caught the machine in mid-air and tossed it aside, sending it smashing through the rubble of a recently-collapsed building. Frantically looking around for anything he could use as a weapon, Hallam pulled a thick metal beam from the pile of debris. It was roughly the size of a small street signpost and felt weighty in Hallam’s hands, despite the power assistance from his armor.

The alien warbot pulled itself out of the wreckage, shaking off the rock and metal like droplets of water. It too then reached into the wreckage and drew out a metal beam. Hallam swallowed hard, not relishing the prospect of being clubbed by the powerful machine. Then he saw Dakota out of the corner of his eye. She was staggering out of the alien building, her iridescent black power armor scuffed and battered, yet she did not appear to be seriously hurt. The warbot warbled again and took careful steps toward Hallam. He was already tired of hearing the machine’s grating shrieks. It was worse than cats fighting in an alley outside your window, when all you wanted to do was sleep, Hallam thought. He stepped out to meet the machine, ready the swat the bot’s squawking head clean off its shoulders.

“I’ll try to distract it,” Dakota called over, circling around to the other side of the warbot. Her face and hair were covered in thick, grey dust.

“If you can get it to turn away from me and attack you, I’ll knock the damn thing into orbit,” said Hallam, gripping the metal beam like a baseball bat.

Dakota picked up a hefty chunk of rubble from the collapsed building and tossed it at the machine. It thudded into its back, causing the warbot to spin around and reply with a bassy whine that vibrated through Hallam’s chest, like a nightclub subwoofer.

“I’m not sure I like the idea of being the bait, Hal…” she said, backing away as the machine turned its blue eye to her.

“Just carry on being annoying,” said Hallam, stalking the warbot and tightening his grip on the beam. “That shouldn’t be hard for you.”

Dakota scowled at Hallam, not appreciating the quip, especially given their circumstances. The roar of starship engines then filled the air, and Hallam looked up to see their stolen mercenary fighter soaring above them, shining vividly in the increasingly hot sun. It dropped lower and began to hover just above the roof level of the buildings, with its rear ramp already lowered.

“Get ready. I’m going to give you your chance,” said Dakota, wary that the warbot was now only a few meters from her. She then flapped her arms like a frightened chicken, momentarily drawing the machine’s full attention. Hallam’s grip on the beam had become so tight that his fingers had pressed indentations into the metal. The warbot then darted toward Dakota, who rolled out of the way, giving Hallam a clear opening. Swinging the metal beam with all his augmented might, the blow struck cleanly, ringing the warbot’s head like a dinner gong. The immense power of the swing sent the machine sailing through the air and crashing through a top-floor window of an adjacent building.

“I didn’t have you down for a power hitter,” said Dakota, looking genuinely impressed with the strike.

“It’s all down to proper motivation,” said Hallam, tossing the beam to the ground as the mercenary fighter lowered to street level.

They both ran inside the ship, Dakota immediately switching places with Dr. Rand in the pilot’s seat.

“Nice work, Doc,” said Hallam, standing behind Dakota and keeping a wary eye out for the machine, unconvinced he’d put it down for good. Then he noticed that the auxiliary console was reading the external temperature as one hundred and thirty, and climbing by the second. He shook his head, realizing that if they stayed for much longer, they’d end up as permanent residents. Hallam dropped into the auxiliary seat and hurriedly strapped in, then looked at Dakota. “Now let’s get out of here before this planet cooks us alive.”

13

Dakota lifted the fighter higher above the alien street, but before she’d cleared the tops of the buildings, Hallam caught sight of something moving along the roofline. Unfastening his harness, he rushed beside Dakota’s chair to get a clearer view through the cockpit glass. Then he shook his head, scarcely believing what he was seeing.

“Dak, bank hard left, now!” Hallam cried out, but it was already too late. The alien warbot had scrambled along the rooftops and flung itself at the fighter in a freakish display of speed and agility. There was a hard thud against the hull and Hallam knew they were in desperate trouble.

“I’ll try to shake it off!” Dakota called out, tipping the wings violently from side to side, but the warbot was somehow locked on to the hull like a magnet. Hallam peered toward the rear of the ship and saw the warbot clawing its way toward the cockpit. Cursing, he reached over Dakota and activated the armor shields from her console. Then he spun back and watched as the metal barriers slid over the canopy a fraction of a second before the machine’s fists hammered into them.

“Hal, I can’t see!” Dakota cried. “Turn on the damn virtual view.”

Hallam practically threw himself at the auxiliary console and cycled through the command menu to find out why the virtual view had not activated. Hard thuds continued to reverberate through the cockpit, like a drum beating the call to war. However, according to the ship’s computer, the virtual cockpit view should have been active.

“I don’t get it, the system should be online,” Hallam called back to Dakota, hammering his fists on the console out of frustration.

“I found the ship part-buried under some fallen rubble,” Dr. Rand commented. “It’s likely we’ve taken some moderate damage.”

Dakota cursed while continuing to shake the ship from side to side. However, without being able to see where they were going, Hallam knew that Dakota’s options were limited. If her moves were too aggressive, they risked crashing and burning even before the warbot tore them out of the sky.

“We have to get that thing off the hull,” Dakota called over to Hallam. “These armor shields won’t last long.”

Hallam had an idea, though it was ranked as one of the craziest that had ever popped into his head. Even so, he didn’t see an alternative. Pushing away from his console, he made his way aft, though his departure had not gone unnoticed by Dakota.

“Where the hell are you going?” Dakota shouted after him, peering over her shoulder.

Hallam pulled open one of the weapons lockers. “Get ready to lower the rear ramp,” he shouted back. Rummaging through the many weapons in the locker, he found a grenade launcher and hastily loaded it. “I’m going out there to clean this bug off our windshield.”

“Are you mad? You can’t go out there!” Dakota cried over the sound of more hard thumps on the armor shields.

“If you have a better idea, Dak, now is the time…” said Hallam, reaching the rear of the fighter and grabbing hold of the handrail. He glanced toward the cockpit and sucked in a deep breath. “Open the ramp, Dak, it’s the only way.”

Dakota growled, then turned back to her consoles. A second later, the ramp began to lower. The sudden gust of air inside would have normally unbalanced Hallam, but his power armor was still holding strong. Slinging the grenade launcher, he climbed out onto the top of the fighter, between its two powerful main engines.

The rush of air assaulted Hallam’s eyes and made them stream with water, but he was able to blink away the wetness enough to see the warbot ahead of him. Climbing a little further toward the machine, Hallam found a solid handhold and gripped onto it with his left glove before carefully unslinging the weapon. Dakota was flying straight and level now, but far ahead of them, Hallam could see a majestic tower. It rose easily three kilometers into the sky before abruptly ending in a jagged scar, where its peak had been torn off sometime in the distant past. The tower was littered with holes punctured throughout its wide structure, as if it had been blasted with an enormous blunderbuss.

Hallam tore his eyes away from the colossal building and focused on the warbot. The machine’s relentless battering of the armor shields was now causing them to buckle. Hooking its claw-like appendage underneath a crack in the metal, the warbot began to pull back the panels, like peeling an orange to reveal the softer flesh underneath. Hallam took aim with the grenade launcher as a discarded panel of armor flashed by his head so close, he heard the rush of air. The bot raised its arm again, ready to smash the glass, and Hallam fired.

The explosion sent a cloud of bitter smoke rushing into Hallam’s eyes, temporarily blinding him. He blinked away the stinging tears and saw that the warbot’s blue eye had turned to him, its arm blown clean off at the elbow joint. The machine uttered a string of angry warbles, but Hallam wasn’t going to give it a chance to retaliate. Aiming the launcher again, Hallam held his breath and fired a second grenade. This time, he struck the machine in the dead center of its vee-shaped eye, blowing its cranial unit clean off. Seconds later, the warbot’s vise-like hold on the fighter relaxed, and it slid off the hull. However, Hallam’s feelings of elation at destroying the machine were soon quashed. The warbot was on a collision course directly for him. Tossing the weapon aside, Hallam flattened his body to the hull and tucked in his head as tightly as possible. The frame of the warbot then thudded over his body, like a stampede of cattle, before finally tumbling out into freefall toward the broken city below. Hallam winced, feeling each thud reverberate through his bones, but his grip had held. Another swell of elation flooded through his body and was nullified just as quickly as he realized the enormous skyscraper was still dead ahead. More than this, Dakota couldn’t see it.

Cursing again, Hallam climbed back down the hull, his movements feeling stiffer and more labored than before, and tentatively dropped into the cargo hold. “Dak, lower the shields and bank hard, now!” he called out, but with the ramp still lowered, his words were just sucked out into the open sky. Thudding the button to close the hatch, Hallam tried to make his way to the cockpit, but his movements were slow and arduous. He fell to his knees, suddenly exposed to the full weight of the armor. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see sparks of electricity fizzing all over his back. He realized that the warbot must have damaged the suit’s power systems when it clattered over him. The ramp then thudded shut and sealed tightly, and Hallam called out again, “Dak, turn now!”

This time, Dakota heard his voice, but it was clear she hadn’t understood his words, because she was smiling at him. The virtualized view suddenly flicked on, as if a loose wire had reconnected, revealing the massive skyscraper, directly ahead. This time, it was Dakota that cursed, but there was no time to turn away. With the suit anchoring Hallam to the deck, all he could do was watch and hope that Dakota’s pilot’s instincts would see them through. Dakota grabbed the controls and angled them toward one of the gaping holes in the titanic structure. The air ahead of the ship was then lit up with a torrent of cannon fire. Dakota was trying to use their guns to literally burrow a tunnel through the gigantic tower. The cockpit was suddenly cast into shadow as the ship plunged into the fissure. The sound of metal grinding against metal became deafening, and Hallam was sure they were about to be torn apart. Then the mercenary fighter burst through the other side of the building, like a whale breaching out of the sea. Dakota pulled up hard and lowered what remained of their shields, then turned away from the scorching heat of the sun and aimed for deep space.

Hallam rocked himself from left to right, until eventually, he toppled onto the deck of the fighter’s cargo hold and lay there on his back, unable to move. However, he wouldn’t have moved even if the suit still had power. He was grateful for the opportunity to rest, even if it was only for a short time. Because although they’d conquered the challenges of the alien thirteenth bridge world, he knew that even greater challenges still lay ahead.

14

Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black sat on top of Cad’s fighter, observing the tedious and repetitive goings on in the sprawling CryoFoods plant. Cad had landed in a clearing, high up on a mountain overlooking the valley that had been entirely overtaken by the behemoth industrial operation. CryoFoods was a Consortium-owned business and the biggest food production company on Tellus. It supplied engineered food products, in addition to cryo-frozen fresh produce, to almost every bridge world. However, to Cad, the only interesting thing about the place was its size. The entire operation was like a small city, providing work and housing for tens of thousands of people.

It was also an unusual venue for the type of work that Cad had been hired to undertake. Mercenaries and private military companies were not typically found on Tellus, though he couldn’t deny they were now living in unusually turbulent times. News of the gravitational instabilities in the Vesta system had already caused widespread fears, which had escalated into full-blown panic when word of Minerva’s destruction had spread. There was already rioting on some worlds, as demands for answers were met with dull platitudes and empty reassurances. Panic buying and looting was increasing, and the already near-lawless outer worlds had become melting pots of rampant crime and violence. Considering how every bridge world relied on each other to a greater or lesser extent, the provision of food was a particular concern. The demand for CryoFoods’ various products had rocketed by four hundred percent overnight. Demand was vastly outstripping supply, which made food one of the most valuable commodities in the galaxy. As such, Tellus and CryoFoods, in particular, had just become a prime target for the many criminal gangs that operated in the outer worlds.

The Forsaken was one such gang. They were a notorious and ruthless criminal organization stemming from Vediovis. The Consortium’s spy network had received word that the Forsaken intended to hijack the dozen CryoFoods Super Freighters that were sitting in the gigantic loading dock, carved into the mountains to the east of the factory city. With the Consortium’s own Enforcer resources stretched thin dealing with rioting and crime on the other bridge worlds, the Blackfire Squadron, along with a number of other private military companies, had been hired to protect the plant and the freighters. However, while the other mercs had all taken up various duties, guarding entry points to the facility or other key locations, such as the loading dock, Cad knew the real fight would come later. He was content for the Forsaken and the other PMCs to duke it out first before he swooped in to take all the glory.

Cad had only taken the job on Tellus as a way to pass the time, until he and Alexis were ready to move on Damien Doyle at his Governors Island penthouse on Earth. He needed the magnate to demand an audience with him. For Cad to request a meeting would have aroused suspicion in the mind of the already distrustful man. Cad had never asked to meet Doyle before. It had always been the other way around. He was actually surprised that the tycoon hadn’t already summoned him, but Cad knew that Doyle would eventually. And when that happened, Cad would be ready.

To some extent, Cad appreciated getting back to normality, though without Draga Vex, it still didn’t feel quite right. And despite his best efforts, he’d been unable to get Hallam Knight out of his head. Yet Alexis had been right. Damien Doyle needed to be dealt with first, before the vindictive multi-trillionaire became desperate and started cleaning house. If the magnate couldn’t conceal his accountability for the gravitational anomalies, he would eradicate anyone who could implicate him. Cad and Alexis would be top of his list. A dozen Consortium facilities, including Doyle’s data bunker on Fortuna, had already been purged, and at least fifty high-level Consortium employees had gone missing in mysterious circumstances.

The galaxy’s most powerful man still had enough political heavyweights in his back pocket to shield himself from potential criminal charges. Nevertheless, hard questions were being asked, and public outcry against the Consortium was decimating Doyle’s share prices. The Consortium’s near total control over the media was also becoming useless, as millions more people turned to the Dark BridgeNet to understand the secrets behind the propaganda spouted via Doyle’s media networks. The mysterious hacker known as Falken was making waves, and now it wasn’t just the tinfoil hat-wearing conspiracy theorists that were paying attention. Doyle’s influence, as well as his previously untouchable position, was weakening by the hour. This was exactly what Cad had intended to happen when he leaked the information to Falken and told her to release it. However, he still needed to be cautious and clever. The more vulnerable Damien Doyle felt, the more dangerous he’d become.

“This would be a nice planet, if it wasn’t for the complete lack of anything fun to do here,” said Alexis. She had stripped down to her underwear and was sunbathing on the hull of the fighter.

“I can think of something fun to do here,” said Cad, pausing momentarily from cleaning his Black Prince sword to look down at her.

Alexis lifted her foot and ran it along Cad’s chest, then pressed her toes to his scarred cheek and turned his face away. “I would have thought you’d had enough of that already,” she said playfully. “Besides, I think you love that sword more than me.”

“No, you don’t,” said Cad, turning the strange alien blade over so that it caught the sun. Then he placed the sword by his side and straddled Alexis his arms. “If it had been you, instead of Draga, I’d have rained nuclear fire down on every renegade base and slaughtered all of them to the last man in order to avenge you.”

Alexis kissed him then slapped him around the face. “How romantic…”

Suddenly, the distant ripple of gunfire reached them from the valley below, and Cad sat back up in time to see four armored shuttles suicide-diving through the atmosphere toward the factory city. It was a common, if incredibly risky, tactic employed by the Vediovan gangs, and the Forsaken in particular. They would skulk around in orbit, jamming the sensors of the local and CSF Enforcers. Then, when the time was right, they’d burn hard toward the planet, entering the atmosphere at the fastest possible velocity. They’d then maintain this velocity until the last possible moment before flipping their noses to the sun and burning hard to kill their momentum. It was like the spaceship equivalent of a halo dive. If it worked, it gave the gang the element of surprise. And if it didn’t, they were dead anyway.

“Here we go…” said Alexis, sitting up and watching the shuttles soaring toward the factory. Her raven skull pendant slid across her neck and caught the sun, sparkling with an almost magical glint. Both members of the Blackfire Squadron then watched as the shuttles pulled up sharply, pointing their noses at the bright blue sky. The engines of the shuttles engaged on full burn and the sky was suddenly filled with a deafening roar. However, while three shuttles executed the maneuver correctly, the fourth misjudged and smashed into one of the dozens of factory buildings, exploding as if a bomb had gone off.

“Ooh, that’s going to smart,” said Alexis, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

“It’s also going to make our job easier,” said Cad, thinking in more practical terms and adjusting his strategy. Thanks to Falken, who had hacked the Forsaken’s communications network, in return for a five-figure bonus payment, Cad knew the gang’s plans. He’d then had Falken hack the systems of both the Forsaken and the other mercenary companies. This would ensure the various factions would walk straight into each other, cancelling each other out, like fire and water. That left Cad and Alexis with the relatively simple task of mopping up the squad of twenty-four Forsaken thugs who had been tasked with stealing the super freighters. Again, due to Falken’s meddling, these would be conveniently isolated from the rest of the fighting.

Cad hadn’t done this to make life easier for himself. If it had been required, he had a dozen ways of taking out the Forsaken, including the simplest solution, which was to have gunned them down in their shuttles before they even reached the surface. However, after his entertaining skirmish with the miners on Pomona, he was keen to get back into close action. It was the only way he could scratch the itch that he knew would not go away until he had humiliated and killed Hallam Knight.

“Let’s suit up,” said Cad, picking up the Black Prince sword and standing up on the hull.

Alexis sprang up and draped herself across Cad’s shoulder. “I thought I’d go like this…” she said seductively.

Cad, however, was no longer interested in playing games. His thoughts had already turned to the task at hand, such that all he now yearned for was violence. “We’ll celebrate when this is done,” said Cad, glancing down to meet her teasing eyes. “Now suit up.”

Alexis nodded and pulled away from Cad, her expression hardening like granite. Cad always envied her ability to simply “switch on.” as she had just done. Alexis was like two different people co-existing inside one body. One was frivolous and carefree, while the other was every bit as ruthless and merciless as Draga Vex ever was. For Cad, there were only forward gears. His ambition and passion were all-consuming, like a fever that constantly had to be sweated out or else he’d die. Even in his sleep, he was never at rest.

Alexis turned and walked across the hull, the sway of her hips momentarily distracting Cad from the dozens of attack scenarios that were playing out in his mind. Then he glanced down at the burning factory building, with fire bots swarming all around it, desperately fighting the inferno, and settled on a new strategy. It was a strategy that would bring him the most personal satisfaction. Because of the crash, the gang of pilots who were gunning for the freighters would have to adjust their covert approach to the dock, detouring through one of the adjacent cryo-freezing factories. He and Alexis would meet them there, amidst the hundreds of commercial freezers, and whittle them down, face-to-face, close enough for a sword. Meanwhile, the other gang members and mercenaries would wipe each other out, sparing Cad the bother of doing it himself.

Cad drew in a lungful of the warm Tellusian air, allowing it and the thought of the fight that was to come invigorate him. Then he caught a reflection of his own scarred, chiseled face in the blade of the reforged Black Prince sword. He almost didn’t recognize himself. The man staring back at him appeared older and more tired than the Cad Rikkard he remembered. The Cad Rikkard he wanted to be. He lowered the sword and headed back inside the fighter, ready to prove to everyone – especially himself – that Cad Rikkard was still the best.

15

Alexis Black dove Cad’s fighter toward the cryo-freezing factory building, like an eagle soaring after its prey. Bullets pinged off the hull from the Forsaken thugs, mercenary groups, and even CSF Enforcer squads, who all fired on the ship as it dropped down on them out of the blue. Ordinarily, this would have irked Cad, but his meddling was the reason they were all panicking to the point where no one on the ground could distinguish friend from foe. Cad’s plan had worked perfectly. Thanks to Falken’s false information, the Forsaken thugs and mercenaries had all been funneled into the same location and forced into a desperate fight for survival. Whatever plans any of the various groups had were all shot to hell, like their bodies were about to be. Cad grunted in appreciation of his own work. It was like a masterful game of chess, where he had been playing both sides.

Alexis dropped the fighter onto the roof of the factory building and Cad jumped down, carrying a sniper rifle loaded with precision-guided rounds. A regular assault rifle was attached to a magnetic stow on his back, while his reforged Black Prince sword rested in its sheath. However, Cad had no intention of allowing the weapon to remain there for long. Marching to the edge of the rooftop, Cad was met with a volley of incoming small-arms fire. Some of the bullets skipped off his armor, while most thudded harmlessly into the wall or zipped past him into the clear sky. Unconcerned by the incoming swarm of bullets, Cad raised his rifle and marked the five Forsaken thugs who were shooting at him using the targeting system built into his helmet’s visor. He then fired five shots in quick succession, each bullet guiding itself on target. A second later, the thugs all lay dead, each one shot in the head, right between the eyes.

Cad’s head was then snapped back, as if he’d just been caught with a fast jab. Running his fingers across his helmet, he felt the dent from the bullet that had struck him. He growled, more from annoyance than from any pain the hit had caused him, then scanned his surroundings, looking for the culprit. A group of private military contractors had managed to retreat from the main battle and were moving toward the factory building. Cad assumed they must have worked out his plan and were now desperately trying to get back in on the action. In addition to the standard contracted rate, the mercenary group that personally took down the Forsaken pilots would net a tidy bonus. It was pocket change to Cad, but for some of the rag-tag mercenary companies, it represented a significant payday.

Zooming in on the group using his visor, Cad saw that one of the mercenaries was carrying a scoped sniper rifle. The man moved behind cover and crouched, preparing to take another shot at Cad. He stepped aside at the last moment and the bullet sailed wide. Cad hadn’t planned on taking down the other mercenary groups too, since it wasn’t part of his contract, but he didn’t like people taking pot shots at him either. Disabling the precision guidance system on his weapon, Cad dropped to a crouch and tracked the enemy sniper as he ran to a new firing position. He could have waited until the man had stopped moving, but he wanted to test his aim. Squeezing the trigger, Cad saw the mercenary drop, as if he’d just walked into an invisible barrier. He again grunted with appreciation. The bullet had entered through the man’s left eye and blown the back of his head off. It was an impressive shot, even if he did say so himself. Cad then watched the dead mercenary’s squad-mates scramble into cover, desperately searching for the sniper who had shot their companion. Cad flicked the precision aiming system back on and took each of them down. He’d satisfied himself that he was still an expert marksman and was now already bored of shooting people. He lowered the rifle and placed a hand on the pommel of his sword, eager for the time when he’d once again employ it in anger.

“I’ve activated the cutting tool,” said Alexis, who had strolled up beside Cad.

Cad glanced back toward the fighter and saw that the device had already almost succeeded in slicing an entry point into the factory.

“How many are we dealing with?” Alexis added, peering out over the side of the building.

Cad used his visor to enhance the area where the Forsaken fighters and other mercenaries were still locked in a frenetic engagement. Confident they would be busy for some time, he turned his attention to where the Forsaken pilots were scheduled to make their covert approach to the loading dock. He saw them moving through the side alleys and back roads, just as planned.

“The twelve two-man Forsaken flight crews are headed this way, on schedule,” said Cad, flipping up his visor and turning to face Alexis. “The others will kill each other or flee. Either way, they won’t be a problem for us.”

Alexis nodded then pulled a semi-automatic shotgun from the magnetic stow on her back. “I thought I’d use this, as a tribute to Draga,” she said, holding the weapon out for Cad to inspect.

Cad looked at the shotgun, remembering Draga’s ruthless, fearless employment of the weapon. “Use whatever weapons suit you best,” he said, taking the shotgun and examining it. “Sentimentality will only get you killed.”

Alexis appeared to consider this for a moment, then shrugged. “Just remember that recklessness will get you killed too,” she hit back, taking the shotgun back off Cad. “You have nothing to prove here. Remember that.”

“I always have something to prove,” replied Cad, moving back toward his ship.

“Not to me,” said Alexis. She then winked at Cad. “Except whether or not you can take down more of these Forsaken fools than I can, of course,” she added playfully.

Cad’s eyes narrowed. “You’re challenging me?” he said, though he was more surprised than outraged.

“Only if you think you’re up to it?” said Alexis, the corner of her mouth curling into a smile. “It’ll be like old times.”

“Challenge accepted,” said Cad, stowing the sniper rifle back in the fighter.

“I think I’ll save this for another time,” said Alexis, replacing the shotgun with her familiar Five-Seven-Seven pistols. However, she also took out a short metal staff, which she attached to the belly of her armor.

Cad grunted and smiled. He hadn’t seen Alexis use that particular weapon in some time. However, the fact she had armed herself with it now meant that she was serious about her challenge. The cutting tool then completed its task and a circular chunk of metal fell inside the factory building, opening up a way inside for Cad and Alexis.

“After you,” said Cad, gesturing to the opening, but Alexis just raised her eyebrows and returned the gesture.

“No, I insist…” replied Alexis, though this time, her smile had gone, as had her playful persona. In its place, Cad saw the eyes of the harder-edged Alexis Black. The warrior had already taken over.

Cad lowered his visor and dropped through the opening with Alexis a mere heartbeat behind. The factory was empty, save for the automatons that were employed for routine maintenance tasks. All of the human workers had already been sent to their homes, until the all-clear had been given. Cad and Alexis prowled through the roof structure of the factory, toward where the Forsaken thugs would soon enter. Below him were rows of cryo-freezing machines, all running automatically with the assistance of the dutiful bots. The noise was near deafening, but Cad adjusted the audio sensors in his helmet to filter out the industrial clatter and hone in on the voices of the Forsaken pilots.

The doors swung open at the far end of the factory, and Cad dropped to a crouch, raising a fist to alert Alexis. The pilots had split into two groups, each moving along opposite sides of the factory.

“I’ll take the group approaching along the north wall,” said Alexis, though she was already moving, crouch running across the rafters with the speed and agility of a gymnast.

Cad swung down onto a balcony running alongside one of the many industrial cooling units, then unslung his rifle. Alexis was crouched on top of an office on the opposite side, pistols drawn and ready. Cad gave her the signal to fire, and moments later, she was raining bullets down on the gang members below.

Cad fired his rifle at the second groups, scattering them like startled rabbits. Frantic shouts and barked orders were filtered into Cad’s ears through his helmet’s audio sensors. However, the gang members were wearing only regular combat armor, and despite their earpieces, Cad doubted that any of the commands and warnings that had escaped their lips could have been heard over the clamor of the industrial machines. Cad continued to fire, picking off four of the pilots like ducks in a barrel. Two tried to run, but Cad had filled them both with bullets before they’d even made it ten meters. “Oh no,” Cad said out loud, though he was talking to himself. “None of you are making it out of here alive…”

Cad reloaded the rifle then stowed it in the mount on his back and drew the Black Prince sword. He’d already killed six of the Vediovan gang members, thinning their numbers to a point where the remainder could be dealt with at close quarters. Running along the balcony, he positioned himself behind the fragmented and panicked remains of the group. He then glanced over to check on Alexis and saw that she had also taken down at least half of the first group. She was now prowling in between the multitude of cryo-freezing units on the ground level. Alexis had holstered her pistols and was now wielding the metal Bo staff, which had extended to its full size.

In many ways, Cad wanted to watch Alexis use her favorite melee weapon, but he still had bloody work of his own to complete. He waited for one of the Forsaken thugs to pass below him, and dropped from the rafters, landing on the man’s back and crushing his chest and face into the concrete floor. Cad heard the shuffle of boots close by, and he raised the Black Prince in readiness to strike. He swung the blade just as the thug’s partner rounded the corner, slicing the man cleanly from his shoulder down to his naval. Bullets then thudded into the dying man’s back. Cad ducked behind the body, using it as a shield, and saw two other gang members, unleashing bullets at him from automatic rifles. Cad pulled the sword out of the man’s chest, then darted behind one of the enormous cryo-machines. His helmet’s audio sensors picked up the panicked yells of the two men as they hollered instructions at each other. Taking advantage of the distraction, Cad ducked under the machine and thrust the blade through the chest of the first thug. He then released his grip on the handle, leaving the sword plunged through the man’s body, grabbed the second thug and threw him headfirst into the cryo-machine. The man’s agonized yells were short-lived as the cryo-unit flash-froze his head, alongside hundreds of strawberries that were still busily filtering along they conveyor. Cad watched the Vediovan gang member with interest, idly wondering exactly how long it took to completely cryo-freeze someone’s head. He’d killed more people than he cared to remember, but this was a first for Cad, and he knew it would be a kill he’d remember.

Cad recovered his sword from the chest of the thug he’d impaled earlier, then saw Alexis Black pass into his line of sight. She thrust the metal Bo staff into the throat of a Forsaken thug. Cad watched as the tip of the weapon crackled with electrical energy, dumping a lethal charge directly into the thug’s body. Alexis then whirled the staff into the face of another pilot, and Cad heard the satisfying crunch of bone. Her head then jerked in Cad’s direction. She drew one of her Five-Seven-Sevens and fired. Cad didn’t flinch, and turned to see another of the gang members topple backward like a felled tree, a single bullet wound to his forehead. The man had evidently managed to sneak up on Cad while he was busy admiring Alexis’ handiwork.

“That’s eleven, by the way, in case you’re not counting,” said Alexis. She was then rushed from the side and hammered into the wall of a cryo-vat by the two remaining Vediovan gang members. Struggling to subdue her, the Forsaken thugs fought to press the barrels of their rifles against Alexis’ armor, attempting to shoot her at point-blank range. However, even against two men, Alexis’ augmented strength was superior. She deflected the weapons with her Bo staff, sending the bullets thudding into the cryo-vat instead. Liquid nitrogen spurted from the holes, covering the legs of one gang member and causing him to howl in pain. Alexis dropped the Bo staff and grabbed both men, spinning them around and pressing them against the flowing liquid. Both continued to screech and howl as the liquid burned their skin, but Alexis continued to hold them in place. Cad then stepped forward and swung his sword, decapitating both gang members with one mighty swing of the alien-derived blade.

Alexis stepped back, flipped up her visor, then pressed her hands to her hips. “Those two were mine,” she said, sounding genuinely annoyed.

Cad continued to watch the liquid nitrogen boil out from the tank and burn the two men who were now frozen to it. He already knew why Alexis was annoyed. With the last two Forsaken thugs dying at the edge of Cad’s sword, his tally had grown to thirteen, which made him the victor of Alexis’ macabre challenge.

“I was just lending you a helping hand,” said Cad, inspecting the blade of his sword. However, other than being so cold it could burn flesh, it was undamaged. Cad grunted and returned it to its sheath.

“That’s new,” said Alexis, pointing to the cryo-machine that Cad had stuffed the Forsaken pilot into earlier.

“How long do you think it takes to completely freeze solid inside one of these things?” Cad said, still morbidly curious to learn the answer. He suspected that if Draga were still alive, she would know the answer.

Alexis strolled up to the machine and launched a kick at the shoulders of the Forsaken thug. The man’s body splintered away from his head and flopped to the concrete. However, the frozen head remained stuck inside the machine, surrounded by hundreds of strawberries.

“I’m claiming that one, by the way,” Alexis said, evidently still hacked off that Cad had taken the last two kills from her.

“Fine, we’ll call it a draw,” Cad grunted. His watch then bleeped an incoming call and he huffed a laugh.

“Is that who I think it is?” said Alexis. Cad turned his wrist so that Alexis could see the screen. “It’s about damn time he reared his ugly head again…” Alexis continued, plucking a frozen strawberry off the conveyer and tapping it against the side of the machine. She then blew some of the freezing vapor off the strawberry, as if she was blowing across the barrel of her smoking pistols. “As much fun as this was, I think it’s time we got back to more serious matters.”

Cad nodded then hovered his finger over the screen. “Let’s find out what Damien Doyle has to say, shall we?”

16

Cad Rikkard put Damien Doyle’s call through on the visor inside his helmet, adding Alexis as an anonymous observer so that she could also watch and listen in.

“I have been expecting an update from you, Mr. Rikkard,” said Damien Doyle, materializing on the rooftop of his Governors Island tower. “Do you have any idea what is happening right now?”

Cad shrugged. “Let me see,” he said, stroking the bottom of his chin with his thumb. “Your planet is slowly falling into the sun, your stock prices are in the gutter, your reputation is in tatters, and the governors of all the bridge worlds are hounding you for answers. Those that aren’t in your back pocket anyway.” Cad then paused and shot Doyle a saccharin smile. “How am I doing so far?”

Damien Doyle’s face twisted and his skin flushed a crimson red. “It would be wise not to mock me, Mr. Rikkard,” he seethed with barely restrained fury. “I am above the law. I am untouchable. And despite your boasts to the contrary, I can assure you that you are not. I hired you for your skills and discretion, but if I am exposed, then I will no longer have any need of you.”

Cad held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture. “Relax, I’m only messing around,” he said, doing a good impression of sounding amiable. “I already have Shelby Rand safely locked up in the back of my ship, as we speak. Unless you no longer require my services, of course?”

Cad’s brazen but convincing lie changed Doyle’s entire complexion in the space of a second.

“You have Rand on your ship right now?” Doyle said, sounding doubtful, but also encouraged.

Cad nodded. “It turns out that you weren’t the only one to have a private planet,” he said, losing his earlier more flippant tone and addressing Doyle with the emotionally-detached sincerity the magnate was used to. “We found her base, killed its crew, and captured her.”

“You must bring her to me at once,” said Doyle. If he was trying to hide his excitement, he was failing miserably, Cad thought. “Rand is the way out of this mess. Not only can she fix the problems that her infernal technology created, but when she’s finished, I can hang the whole damn thing around her neck too. She’ll spend the rest of her life in some orbital gulag, and then we can all get back to normal. You included.”

“I require an appropriate level of compensation, considering my significant losses,” said Cad, doing the expected level of negotiating, despite not caring for or needing any more of Doyle’s money. “I don’t give a damn what you do with Shelby Rand. I just want paying.”

Doyle’s eyes sharpened. Any talk of negotiations over money always brought the cold, calculating businessman back to the surface. However, this time, Damien Doyle was in no mood to barter. “If you have Rand, then you will get whatever you want or need. You know I am good for it.”

Cad sighed, pretending to contemplate the offer for a period of time that Doyle would consider appropriate. He didn’t want to seem overly keen. “Very well, we’ll bring her to you shortly. I have some business to finish first.”

This seemed to anger Doyle. “Time is of the essence, Mr. Rikkard. Whatever other business you have can wait. I expect your prompt arrival at my Governors Island tower.”

Doyle then cut the transmission, and Cad flipped up his visor before meeting Alexis’ curious eyes.

“Just as you planned…” said Alexis, holstering her pistols and recovering her Bo staff from the feet of the frozen gang members. “Once we’re done with Doyle, we can take care of Knight and Wulfrun.”

Cad nodded, but then had a thought. “We’ll need to bring someone with us, to pretend to be Rand. We can cover their head with a hood. By the time Doyle realizes the deception, it will be too late. For him anyway.”

Alexis looked at the bodies on the concrete floor of the factory and shrugged. “I’m afraid we’ve already put these ones on ice. Bits of them anyway…”

As Alexis was speaking, Cad saw a group of CSF Enforcers moving toward them. The leader, a middle-aged woman, who Cad recognized as the officer who had hired him, approached Cad and ordered the rest of her squad to continue on. Alexis glanced at Cad and flashed her eyes at him, a mischievous smile curling her lips.

“They told me your reputation was well earned, Mr. Rikkard,” the woman said, having to shout just to make herself heard over the racket of the machinery. “But you’ve outdone yourself here. You’ve done the Consortium a great service today.”

While the officer was talking, Alexis had walked up and down the nearby rows, peering along the entire length of the factory, with her visor still lowered. She returned as the woman finished talking, drawing a confused scowl from the CSF commander.

“I only care about getting paid,” said Cad, glancing across to Alexis, who had now flipped up her visor.

“We’re clear; the others have moved out already,” said Alexis, which only made the officer’s scowl deepen. “And she’s about the right size. I think she’ll do nicely.”

“Well, you’ll get what’s owed, I can assure you of that,” the commander said, suddenly appearing anxious and eager to leave. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to catch up with the rest of my squads. There are still a dozen or so Forsaken gang members resisting in sector seven.”

The woman made to leave, but Cad held out his arm to bar her progress. “Just one moment, commander. I do have a question, if you’ll indulge me?”

“Go on,” the woman said, hesitantly.

“How old are you?” asked Cad, shooting her his most charming smile. “I mean, you look very young to be a regional commander of the CSF.”

The woman brushed her hair behind her ears and smiled. Cad’s flattery had done the trick. “That’s nice of you to say,” the commander said, blushing slightly. “But I’m actually fifty-two.”

Cad looked at Alexis, who just shrugged then clocked the commander over the head with her armored fist. She crumbled to the concrete, knocked out cold.

“That’s a little younger than Rand, but I guess you’ll do,” Cad said, resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. “Let’s get her on the ship and head out before anyone notices she’s gone.”

17

Cad Rikkard maneuvered his fighter toward the floodlit roof level of Damien Doyle’s Governors Island tower in New York. He was approaching at little more than a crawl, under close escort from two CSF fighters. These vessels had shadowed his approach for the last two hundred kilometers, weapons locked on the whole time. If this wasn’t enough, two missile batteries on top of Doyle’s tower had also targeted Cad’s ship. Cautious was not the word to describe Damien Doyle’s behavior, Cad thought, lowering the fighter onto the landing pad. The tycoon had always maintained tight security, especially around his soon-to-be doomed estate on Vesta, but these current measures were far in excess of anything Cad had experienced before. However, he realized that the stepped-up security wasn’t just a response to the seriousness of the tycoon’s current situation. It also hinted at what Doyle had planned for the remains of the Blackfire Squadron, once Cad had given the magnate what he wanted.

Cad was disappointed, though not surprised, that the multi-trillionaire would telegraph his murderous intentions quite so obviously, but he was also content to play along with Doyle’s game. If his plan worked, he wouldn’t need the fighter, or even his Black Prince sword, to dispatch the self-proclaimed “untouchable” leader of the Consortium. He only needed to get himself Alexis and Doyle in a room, together with the magnate’s ever-present personal protection bot. Then Doyle would discover just how untouchable he really was.

Alexis Black waved and blew a kiss to the departing CSF escort fighter pilots through the cockpit glass. Then she and Cad both surveyed their new rooftop location. As usual for Damien Doyle, the structure was a towering symbol of his wealth and power. It rose over fifteen hundred meters above the New York skyline, with the topmost floors dedicated to Doyle’s personal offices and living spaces. The roof level alone was bigger than most provincial parks.

Cad shut down the engines and lowered the rear ramp. A squad of a dozen CSF enforcers in black combat gear had already surrounded the ship. They were all sporting compact SMGs and holding them like they were prepared to use them. Cad noted their unique mahogany-red tactical vests and berets. These were both symbols that they were part of Doyle’s elite enforcer squad, Crimson Lynx. Their presence was a complication, though if all went as planned, it would merely end up as an inconvenience. However, Crimson Lynx would have to wait, Cad told himself. First was the matter of dealing with Damien Doyle.

“Do you have the device ready?” said Cad, walking down the rear ramp with Alexis at his side. She was leading the hooded bound and gagged CSF commander by the arm. At some point, the deception would become obvious, but by the time Damien Doyle realized that their prisoner wasn’t actually the genius scientist, Dr. Shelby Rand, it would be too late.

“Of course,” replied Alexis, though there was something about the way she said it and the look in her eyes that suggested she was up to something. Cad frowned and looked her over, trying to work out where she’d concealed the bot-hacking device that Falken had engineered.

“So where is it, then?” asked Cad, finally giving up.

“You’ll see…” said Alexis, flashing her eyes mysteriously at him.

Cad grunted and let the matter drop. He wasn’t currently in the mood for games, but so long as Alexis had it with her, he didn’t care where it was. Though, considering her current close-fitting outfit, it was a puzzle that was driving him slightly mad. As instructed by Doyle’s “people” before they had arrived at Earth, both were wearing their regular jet-black tactical clothing instead of their combat armor, and both were also unarmed. Cad felt uncomfortable without the Black Prince sword at his side, despite the fact that his uniform had been tailor-made to fit him perfectly. Alexis’ uniform was similarly custom, made to her own unique style and tastes, and she wore it with confidence and élan. The turning heads and sharpened eyes of the elite enforcers was as much to do with her beguiling swagger as their orders to watch the notorious Blackfire Squadron like hawks.

The cold night air licked at Cad’s face, causing a chill to run down his spine. He had grown more used to the climate-controlled power armor than he realized, and not only for its offensive and defensive capabilities. Cad had to remind himself that without it, he was vulnerable.

“Wait there, sir,” said one of the enforcers, stepping out in front of Cad and thrusting an open palm toward his chest. “We just have to check that you’re not carrying any weapons.”

Cad regarded the man for a moment, sizing him up. He was older than Cad and wore his scars proudly on his face and exposed arms. And though his uniform bore no identifiable symbols of rank, Cad guessed he was the squad’s sergeant.

“Raise your arms,” the man continued in a gruff, soldierly manner, after Cad failed to immediately acknowledge him. Then, with forced politeness, the sergeant added, “If you wouldn’t mind… sir…”

The enforcer’s tone had remained professional throughout, though the façade of civility was paper thin. Cad could tell that the enforcer was secretly hoping he would resist. He could see it in the man’s eyes, as he’d seen similar looks in the eyes of many other mercenaries and soldiers in the past. Some mercs just liked to hurt people for the fun of it, and this man was one of them.

“Go ahead,” replied Cad, raising his arms out to the side.

The sergeant nodded to another enforcer, who then patted Cad down before moving on to Alexis and hesitating.

“Go on, don’t be shy…” said Alexis, gracefully raising her arms, as if moving into second position in ballet.

The enforcer patted her down, noticeably more quickly and hesitantly than he had done with Cad, then moved on to the hooded prisoner. Cad’s prisoner flinched and trembled with each touch, mumbled sobs emanating from under the hood. The sergeant scowled at Alexis, who merely shot him a wink in reply, before the enforcer extended his arm to the stairwell behind them.

“If you’ll come with me, sir and madam,” said the sergeant, waiting for Cad and Alexis to take the lead, then following a few steps behind.

The stairwell led to a grand hall, reminiscent of one of the many such halls in Doyle’s Vestan estate. It was lined with marble statues of people Cad didn’t recognize, and overall, he considered it to be an extraordinary waste of space.

“Just up ahead and to your right, sir,” said the sergeant, maintaining his polite, if slightly passive-aggressive tone. “The large double doors.”

Cad glanced back at the enforcer as he walked, and smiled at him. “You Crimson Lynx guys get to see much action a mile up on a New York rooftop?” he said, passing the time by trying to goad the sergeant into revealing his true colors. “It must be really tough, fighting off all those high-flying pigeons. No wonder you need all that fancy red armor. Wouldn’t want to get pecked, would we?”

The sergeant’s square jaw clenched. The man was trying hard not to take the bait, but Cad knew that ego and pride would mean the sergeant couldn’t resist.

“I’ve seen more real action than a fake soldier like you ever has,” the enforcer grunted. Then he nodded in the direction of Alexis, who was quietly listening in while still leading the prisoner. “Though your girlfriend looks like she’s seen plenty of action, if you know what I mean…” the sergeant added, smirking back at Cad before reluctantly adding, “…sir.”

Cad returned the fake smile, enjoying how easy it had been to rile the man. Then he glanced over at Alexis. The look in her eyes told Cad all he needed to know about her intentions toward the enforcer, when the appropriate time came.

They reached the towering set of floor-to-ceiling double doors at the end of the hall. Cad thought it looked like the entrance to a grand ballroom or some other similarly pompous and pointless space. The sergeant knocked then stepped to the side.

“I see that Doyle saves all the really important jobs for you,” said Cad, adjusting his smile so that it was more of a smirk, which he hoped would anger the man even more.

“You’ll find out soon enough,” the sergeant replied darkly and with obvious relish. Cad snorted a laugh and glanced at Alexis again, who merely rolled her eyes. The enforcer may as well have just handed them a note saying, “Hello, my squad is only here to kill you.”

One half of the huge doors opened, and Cad was met with the featureless metal expression of Damien Doyle’s personal protection bot. He again glanced at Alexis, who flashed her eyes and nodded almost imperceptibly. However, it was enough to let Cad know that the hacking device had been activated.

Cad turned to the faceless automaton and sucked in a deep breath. His plan had been set in motion, and now there was no turning back.

18

Damien Doyle’s personal protection bot stepped aside, though its featureless cranial unit still peered down at Cad Rikkard. He almost preferred the sinister vee-shaped eye of the alien warbot he’d fought on the rogue world to this anonymous-looking machine.

“Come in, Mr. Rikkard,” said the voice of Damien Doyle, played out through a speaker concealed somewhere inside the bot’s head or body. Doyle’s tone conveyed the usual faux congeniality that the magnate often began conversations with. “Just follow the bot and it will lead you inside.”

Alexis entered first, pushing the prisoner ahead of her, while Cad followed, noting that the sergeant had also entered and closed the door behind him. He was still cradling an SMG, tapping his finger impatiently on the frame above the trigger guard. Cad continued through a wide, marble-floored corridor and into an enormous open-plan living space, while the sergeant shadowed him a few meters behind.

Doyle’s suite occupied the uppermost five stories of his Governors Island tower, and was as opulent as Cad had come to expect from any of the tycoon’s properties. What was contained on the other four floors, Cad had no idea, considering that the floor he’d entered could comfortably accommodate the entire Crimson Lynx squad.

Cad saw Damien Doyle standing in front of a plush leather sofa on a garden terrace, just beyond a wall of thirty-foot-tall floor-to-ceiling glass windows. There was an open champagne bottle in an ice bucket on a table with two glasses beside it. Doyle was drinking from a third. The magnate smiled as he saw the hooded figure being marched toward him. The personal protection bot, meanwhile, ensured that it kept itself directly between Cad and its master.

“Well, I believe this calls for a celebration,” said Doyle, pouring champagne into the two other glasses. Then he gestured to the prisoner. “Please, the hood is no longer required. Dr. Rand is my guest.”

Cad glanced across to Alexis, but she shook her head, again so subtly that it was almost imperceptible.

“First, why don’t you tell me why the entire Crimson Lynx squad is outside,” said Cad, realizing he still needed to stall for time. Then he hooked a thumb at the sergeant. “Apart from our brave babysitter here.”

The personal protection bot stepped closer to Cad, turning its featureless face toward him. He had seen the bot react in a similar manner on other occasions, responding to certain kinds of voice stress or elevated heart rates that could signify aggressive intent.

“Merely precautionary,” replied Doyle, shrugging off the comment. “Sergeant Miller is attending to a variety of security matters, including the future security and wellbeing of Dr. Rand.”

Sergeant Miller moved to the opposite side of the bot, next to Alexis and the hooded prisoner. “What’s the matter, Mr. Rikkard?” he said with a goading smile. “Do I make you nervous?”

Sergeant Millar’s comment appeared to amuse Doyle, who also smiled, revealing his pristine white teeth. “Remove Dr. Rand’s hood, sergeant,” Doyle said to the Crimson Lynx Enforcer. He then took a sip of champagne, as if anticipating the reveal of a long-lost master work of art.

The enforcer did as he was ordered, yanking off the hood in one swift movement, like a magician performing a tablecloth trick. The gagged face of the CSF Commander from Tellus was then revealed, and Doyle’s self-righteous smile fell away.

“Who is this?” said Doyle, pointing to the woman, whose terrified eyes now flicked from person to person in the room.

“That’s Dr. Rand, of course,” said Cad, shooting Alexis another quick glance. Alexis stroked her cheek gently with one finger, denoting sixty more seconds to wait. She then turned her full attention to Sergeant Miller. “She’s had a little plastic surgery to disguise her appearance, as you might expect,” Cad continued, inventing a convenient lie on the spot. “A DNA test will confirm her identity.”

Doyle placed the champagne glass down onto the table, his face twisted in disgust, as if someone had just broken wind. “A DNA test?” he said, sounding insulted by the excuse, though Cad had to admit it wasn’t one of his better fabrications. “Do you take me for a fool, Rikkard?” Doyle then barked, causing the protection bot to bristle and edge ever so slightly closer to Cad. “Who is this person? Explain yourself!”

When Cad didn’t answer, Doyle shot forward and pulled the gag out of the woman’s mouth.

“Please, help me!” the commander blurted out. “They kidnapped me on Tellus. I have no idea what’s going on here!”

Doyle’s hands clenched into fists, then he glared at Sergeant Miller. “Kill them!” he yelled, his face turning bright red with rage.

Miller raised his SMG, but Alexis Black had already sprung into action, deflecting the barrel away and striking the enforcer with two brutal knife hands to the throat. She followed with a crushing punch to the enforcer’s ribs between the gap in his tactical vest. There was the crack of bone, but Miller barely had time to utter an agonized croak before Alexis had thrust a side-pushing kick into his gut, sending him crashing through the glass table in front of Doyle. The champagne glasses and open bottle fell on top of Miller’s unconscious body, spilling their contents onto the terrace floor.

“Very impressive, Miss Black,” said Damien Doyle, quickly backing away behind his protection bot. “But that will be the last time you two fail me.”

The bot advanced with eye-watering speed, first knocking the still bound CSF commander to the floor with a whirling strike of its arm. In almost the same fluid movement, it managed to catch Cad unawares, hurling him across the terrace and into the floor-to-ceiling windows of the main suite.

“Alexis, any time now would be good…” groaned Cad, pushing himself up. The bot then rounded on Alexis. However, she merely stood her ground. “Alexis!” Cad cried, watching with wide eyes as the bot drew back its hammer-like fist, ready to smash it through Alexis’ face. Then the machine suddenly froze.

“What are you doing? Kill them!” Doyle growled, but the machine remained stationary.

Cad dusted himself down and moved up beside the protection bot, tapping his knuckles against its cranial unit. It made a hollow sound, like an iron cooking pot.

“I think it’s broken,” said Cad, smiling over at Doyle. “That’s a shame, isn’t it?”

Doyle’s panicky eyes saw the sub-machine gun lying next to the body of Sergeant Miller, and he rushed for it, but the older man lacked Cad Rikkard’s fleetness of foot. Cad pushed Doyle back onto the sofa and retrieved the weapon first, casually aiming it at him with one hand.

“You won’t get away with this!” Doyle barked. “I have a whole squad of elite Crimson Lynx enforcers on the roof. You won’t leave here alive!”

Cad stood in front of Doyle, while Alexis began to work on the personal protection bot, levering open a panel in the rear of its cranial unit with a knife she’d taken from Miller’s body.

“I’m not here to kill you,” lied Cad, switching his hold on the SMG to one that was a little less threatening. He needed Doyle to believe the magnate was going to escape with his life, to make sure Cad got what he wanted.

“Then what do you want?” Doyle replied, his leathery brow scrunched up even more tightly than before. “More money?”

“Money would be a start,” said Cad, spotting a tablet computer on another table, further along the grand terrace. “But what I actually want is for you to give me full access to your systems. I want everything you know about Rand, alien planets, the Darkspace Renegades… everything,” he added, nodding toward the computer.

Doyle looked over at the device, then met Cad’s eyes again. “Why, what good is it to you?” he replied, the fear and panic in his voice now much more under control.

“Merely precautionary,” said Cad, shrugging and mimicking Doyle’s earlier gesture. “A safeguard against you trying anything stupid against me again.”

Doyle’s frown remained, but he stood up and cautiously moved over to collect the computer. “But you could just kill me,” the magnate said, surprising Cad by even highlighting this as an option he might have overlooked. Doyle then returned with the device, patting it against his free hand. “Killing me means you don’t need a safeguard. So I think you actually want something else. Something a man in my position can perhaps give you?”

Cad smiled back at Doyle, admiring his audacity and unshakable self-confidence. He was disarmed and entirely at Cad’s mercy, yet the tycoon still believed he had a superior hand. Cad Rikkard, a mere mercenary, must want something that the great Damien Doyle possessed. Cad wanted to take the tablet computer and force it down Doyle’s throat, but he still needed to pander to his ego to get what he wanted.

“Chasing Shelby Rand around the galaxy for you cost me one of my crew,” said Cad, fighting to suppress the anger that surfaced as he was reminded of Draga’s death. “You cannot give her back to me, so I am done with your little quest.” Doyle looked ready to interrupt, but Cad pointed the barrel of the SMG skyward, as if raising a finger to shush the man. Doyle took the hint and remained silent. “However, if all the bridges collapse, then I’m out of a job. So, as much as it pains me to admit it, you are no good to me dead. I need you to fix this mess. You’re just going to have to find someone else to do your dirty work for you.”

Doyle’s scowl was now so intense, it was almost giving Cad a headache just to look at the magnate’s face.

“You want insurance that I won’t try to kill you or tarnish your name, is that it?” asked Doyle.

Cad nodded, though from the way Doyle had asked the question, he knew the man had bought into his story. It suited Doyle’s ego to believe that Cad was just a lowlife scoundrel, reneging on a deal. Doyle then activated the computer, unlocked it with hand, voice, and iris-print identification, and held it out to Cad.

“There, now you have everything you need to safeguard your reputation, such as it is,” sneered Doyle, “I trust that this concludes our business?”

As Doyle said this, the personal protection bot sparked back into life, causing the magnate to jolt backwards. Alexis closed the thick metal panel on the back of its head and stepped away, smiling at Cad.

Once the multi-trillionaire had overcome the shock of the machine’s sudden reactivation, Doyle did what Cad expected, and immediately defaulted on the agreement they’d made seconds earlier. The tycoon dove behind his giant sofa, shouting, “Kill them! Kill them both!”

However, the bot did not respond to Doyle’s command, and instead turned its faceless cranium toward Cad. Doyle peeked out from behind the sofa and barked the command again, but still the bot ignored him.

“I’m afraid your mechanical servant has a new master,” said Cad, handing the SMG to Alexis.

The bot marched toward Doyle, picking up the sofa and tossing it aside like it weighed nothing. It then grabbed Doyle by the throat and lifted him off the ground, leaving his feet dangling several inches above the terrace floor. Cad moved alongside the bot as it marched the choking and spluttering body of Doyle to the edge of the terrace. The magnate struggled in vain to release the bot’s hold on him, but his strength was quickly beginning to ebb. With its free hand, the bot then smashed through the protective wall of glass that surrounded the terrace area. Cold air whistled through the opening.

Damien Doyle’s flailing legs and feet drew Cad’s attention to the magnate’s one-of-a-kind animal-skin shoes, fashioned from a now-extinct creature. He remembered how he once coveted them, as a symbol of Doyle’s unique high status. However, his feelings had changed. He had beaten the mighty leader of the Consortium and proved himself superior. Now there was only one thing he wanted to take from Damien Doyle. His life.

“If it helps you to rest easier, I will still find and kill Rand and her band of renegades,” Cad said, staring up into Doyle’s frantic, fading eyes. “In a way, this is a mercy,” Cad added, feeling invigorated by the cold air rushing past his face. “Now you won’t to live to see your empire crumble to dust.”

Doyle let out a muffled cry, like the frightened screech of a strangled cat. Cad then nodded at the faceless cranial unit of the bot, and the machine tossed Doyle through the opening, sending him sailing out into the night sky. Cad heard the magnate’s cries quickly fade to nothing as the galaxy’s richest and most powerful man plummeted over a kilometer and a half to his death.

“Did you know that it will take a little over thirty seconds for him to hit the ground from this height?” said Alexis, draping herself over Cad’s shoulder. “I wonder what’ll be running through his mind during those final, fleeting moments?”

Cad turned to her and smiled. “He’ll probably be wondering where you stashed that hacking device,” he said, looking Alexis over, but still not seeing it.

Alexis then unzipped her shirt to the navel and plucked the device out from her cleavage before wafting it under Cad’s nose. “No one would find it here. Not without losing a hand anyway…”

Cad grunted and smiled. “That would have been the first place I looked.”

“Promises, promises,” replied Alexis, zipping her shirt up again.

Cad then quickly scanned through the contents of the tablet computer, discovering that he had full access to everything he needed. There was all of the live and historical intelligence on Dr. Shelby Rand, Cad Rikkard’s own personal file, which he promptly deleted, all of Doyle’s numerous accounts, and even Doyle’s personal access codes to the Centrum. It was like a skeleton key that unlocked the entire galaxy. Cad tapped his watch and began transferring the data to his ship, conscious that his access to Doyle’s databases would likely not last for long. He was then interrupted by the squawk of Sergeant Miller’s comm system.

“One of the sergeant’s squad is trying to contact him,” said Alexis, holding Miller’s earpiece beside her own ear. “They’ll come looking for him soon.”

Cad peered down at the enforcer’s body, then noticed that the CSF commander they’d taken hostage from Tellus was slowly coming around. Cad had assumed the bot’s strike had killed her. He knelt beside the sergeant and stripped the man’s tactical vest from his body, along with his sidearm. He handed the vest and the SMG he taken earlier to Alexis and stuffed the sidearm down the back of his pants.

“You need this just as much as I do,” said Alexis, holding up the vest, eyebrows raised.

“I’ll be fine. My heart is made of stone, remember?” said Cad, though Alexis continued to glower at him. “Don’t give me a hard time and just put it on. We still have the rest of the enforcer squad to deal with,” Cad added more forcefully. He wouldn’t normally have insisted. Alexis could take care of herself. However, he didn’t want to take unnecessary risks, and he also couldn’t face the prospect of losing Alexis now. Not after their victory over Doyle had brought them a step closer to defeating the Darkspace Renegades.

Alexis sighed and donned the armored vest without further complaint. “Your heart may be stone, but your head is full of cotton wool,” she hit back. “Just stay close to Metal Mickey over there, and let it do the work.”

“I know the plan, Alexis,” said Cad, straightening up and grabbing the pistol out of his waistband. “After all, it was my plan.”

The personal protection bot then moved up beside Cad, its heavy feet thudding into the terrace and cracking the tiles.

“What do we do with these two?” said Alexis, gesturing to the pair of semi-conscious bodies.

“I think a couple more test flights are in order,” said Cad, nodding to the protection bot. The machine plucked Sergeant Miller off the deck and hurled him over the top of the glass barrier, like it was tossing a caber. It then advanced on the CSF commander, who begged and pleaded with it to stop. However, her cries fell on deaf electronic ears, and she too was launched over the barrier, fifteen hundred meters above New York City.

19

Cad and Alexis followed Damien Doyle’s former personal protection bot into the hall outside the now deceased magnate’s opulent penthouse suite. As instructed, the combat machine was marching steadily toward the staircase leading to the roof level, with Cad and Alexis moving stealthily in its shadow. Two Crimson Lynx enforcers were heading in the opposite direction, urgently calling for Sergeant Miller over their comms system, unaware that their commander was now just a splat on the pavement. The two enforcers stopped dead as they saw the bot advancing toward them, and raised their weapons.

“Hey, hold it there!” one of the two enforcers yelled, but the machine ignored the command and continued on course for the stairwell. “Crap, the thing has a screw loose. Shoot it,” the enforcer added, nudging his comrade. However, before either enforcer could get a shot off, Alexis moved out from behind the machine’s enormous frame and opened fire. Both enforcers dropped to the floor, each shot cleanly in the head.

“That should get their attention,” said Cad, rushing ahead with his pistol raised to recover one of the fallen SMGs. He was met with the thud of heavy bootsteps reverberating down the stairwell, and he cursed. He hadn’t expected the other Crimson Lynx Enforcers to respond quite so swiftly. Cad opened fire into the stairwell, forcing the two advancing enforcers to retreat, barking updates into their comms systems as they did so. He tossed the pistol, grabbed the closest SMG, and sprinted back to the bot. Gunfire crackled behind him and bullets skipped off the marble floor inches from Cad’s feet. He pulled in behind the protective shield of the machine, somehow managing to escape being shot. “Go!” Cad yelled, thumping the bot on the back. “Go! Take them down!”

The bot raced ahead, switching from its plodding, robotic-looking march to an agile sprint that took the two Crimson Lynx Enforcers completely by surprise. The machine ploughed into the enforcers as they unloaded their rifles into its metal body. Grabbing both by the throat, the bot then drove them into the far wall. There was a nauseating, organic crack as the men’s necks snapped from the impact. The bot let the broken bodies of the enforcers drop, then charged up the stairwell to face down the rest of the squad.

Cad and Alexis reloaded their SMGs and hurried after the machine, which had burst through the door to the roof level, smashing it off its hinges. Gunfire erupted above him and Cad advanced through the door and ran into cover. Doyle’s former protection bot had already cut down two more of the remaining enforcers and was busily stomping its enormous foot down onto the chest of another, flattening the man like roadkill. However, the remaining six Crimson Lynx Enforcers were all now concentrating their fire on the machine. And, unlike the alien warbot that Cad had fought on Doyle’s secret rogue world, this earthlier contraption was not invulnerable to bullets. Cad knew it would not survive much longer, and without it as an ally, neither would he and Alexis.

Alexis ran up alongside Cad, shooting and killing another of the enforcers, but they were then pinned down by gunfire as the remainder of the Crimson Lynx squad turned their weapons on them. Cad chanced a look and saw that the bot was now just a smoldering pile of pockmarked metal on the ground. They were outgunned and without the advantage of their power armor.

“Damn, I hoped that thing would have taken out a few more of them before it bought it,” cursed Cad as bullets rattled off the cooling duct they were crouched behind. Cad peeked out from cover again, taking a mental image of their surroundings in the time it took to blink an eye. “Go left on three, and draw them away from the ship,” Cad continued, stroking the bottom of his chin with his thumb. “I have an idea.”

Alexis nodded then waited for Cad to lay down covering fire before sprinting toward the opposite side of the roof, using the enormous ventilation fan assemblies for cover. Cad watched as Alexis picked off another of the Crimson Lynx squad, drawing their fire and focus away from his position. With the enforcers unsighted, Cad dropped down to a lower level and ran as hard as he could toward the landing platform where his fighter was waiting. He was about to leap up to grab the metal frame of the walkway next to the landing pad, when two CSF fighters buzzed past the tower, causing him to instinctively duck out of sight. He cursed, realizing that he should have accounted for the possibility of aerial resistance. He adjusted his plan on the fly, then climbed up onto the walkway.

Shaking the pain from his throbbing fingers, Cad peered across the roof toward the remaining members of the Crimson Lynx squad. He felt his pulse quicken as he realized he couldn’t see Alexis, though the barked orders and continued rattle of gunfire told him they were closing in on her fast. Racing across to his fighter, Cad hit the button to lower the ramp. He squeezed inside as soon as the gap had grown wide enough and tumbled hard to the deck of the cargo bay. He groaned, again forgetting that he was not wearing his power armor, which would have spared him the pain of the fall.

Rubbing his throbbing shoulder, Cad pushed himself up and yanked Doyle’s tablet computer out of his back pocket, tossing it onto a shelving rack. He then jumped into the leg section of his power armor, which was suspended in its storage rack. The armor activated and adjusted its fit automatically before the torso section dropped down from above and angled toward him, allowing Cad to pull it on like a sweater. The two sections of armor sealed and he heard the thrum of the suit’s energy core building to full power. Grabbing his Black Prince sword, Cad drew it from its sheath, then pulled a rifle from the weapons rack and raced down the now fully-opened ramp. However, he’d barely turned the corner before he was confronted by four Crimson Lynx Enforcers. Two were aiming their weapons at him, while the others were pointing the barrels of their SMGs at the head of Alexis Black, pressed to her knees in front of them. Her hands were behind her head, and there was blood oozing from a wound to her shoulder and from a cut above her eye. Cad’s grip on the handle of the Black Prince sword tightened, and he glared out at the Crimson Lynx Enforcers. He didn’t know which one of them had injured Alexis, and he didn’t care. They’d all suffer the same fate, he vowed.

“That’s enough!” one of the enforcers barked, stepping out and confronting Cad. “It’s over. Drop your weapons, or we kill her and then you!”

Cad rested the rifle over his shoulder, glancing first into Alexis’ eyes, which peered back at him fearlessly, and then at the enforcer who had addressed him.

“Damien Doyle is dead, as is your sergeant, Miller, along with seven more of your squad mates,” said Cad, ignoring the enforcer’s threat. “You will be next. Your only choice is how painful your deaths will be.”

The CSF fighters buzzed past the tower again, and in the distance, Cad could see four enforcer dropships approaching from the city. The commotion and gunfire – not to mention the three splats of human flesh on the plaza surrounding Doyle’s tower – had no doubt led to the local authorities being alerted.

“I don’t think you can count,” the enforcer hit back. “There are four of us and just you. Even in that armor, you can’t get us all before we put a bullet in her head. So drop your weapons!”

Cad smiled at the man then slowly drew the rifle down from his shoulder, aiming it harmlessly off to the side. “It’s never just me,” Cad said, tossing the rifle to the ground, causing the enforcers to relax their postures ever so slightly. “We are the Blackfire Squadron,” he continued, pointing the tip of the sword toward the discarded rifle. “And I don’t need that to take down just four of you.”

Alexis sprang into action, jerking her head away from the barrels of the SMGs and thrusting out her arms, deflecting the weapons a fraction of a second before they fired. Cad was moving before the shell casings had even hit the ground, utilizing the speed of his armor to rush the enforcers and take them by surprise. Bullets thudded into the iridescent black metal and Cad felt the sting of pain, but his sword arm was already in motion, slicing through the necks of the two enforcers who’d shot at him. Blood splattered the two other men, painting their crimson armor in a brighter shade of red, and Cad again felt bullets hammer into his body. The second swing of the sword was faster and even more ferocious than the first. Cad roared, fueling the swing with all his pent-up rage and aggression. The closest of the two remaining enforcers was cut in half above the waist. The blade then continued on with enough momentum to lodge itself into the body of the final enforcer, slicing five inches deep into his flesh, beneath the armpit. The man screamed in agony, but his cries were short lived. Cad withdrew the blade and swung it down hard across his opposite shoulder, splitting him in half. The sword dug itself into the ground and Cad remained frozen to the spot, chest heaving, teeth gritted and face covered in the hot, fresh blood of his fallen enemies.

Alexis climbed to her feet and walked up beside Cad. The relief of seeing her alive allowed him to wrestle back control of his emotions and calm the bloodlust that had overwhelmed him.

Alexis scrunched up her nose at the bloody scene at her feet and tutted. “What a mess…” she said, shaking her head.

Cad then noticed her wounds and his heart began to race again. He hurriedly went to check them, but Alexis brushed him off.

“I’m fine, don’t fuss,” snapped Alexis. With the Crimson Lynx Squad all dead, but the CSF fighters still looming above them, she was somewhere between her warrior persona and the flippant Alexis Black that didn’t take anything seriously.

Cad scowled at Alexis and poked his finger into three holes that had been added to Alexis’ recently-appropriated combat vest. “I told you it was a good idea to wear this,” he said. However, it was not an attempt at levity. Cad was deadly serious.

Alexis then pointed to her bleeding shoulder and shrugged. “Three out of four ain’t bad, I suppose…” The roar of the CSF fighters circling around for another pass brought her attention back into sharper focus, pushing the flippant Alexis Black further into the shadows. “I think we’ve outstayed our welcome at Doyle Towers,” Alexis added, glaring up at the CSF ships.

Both hurried back to their mercenary fighter, and Cad dropped into the pilot’s seat. He engaged the engines and prepared to take off, keeping half an eye on the CSF ships, which had now slowed to a hover in front of him. The four local enforcer dropships had also now surrounded the tower, and were shining powerful searchlights onto Cad’s ship. Checking his console, Cad could see that his radio was alive with chatter, none of which he had any interest in tuning in to. No doubt it was just more demands for him to surrender. Procedures and red tape… Cad mused, mocking the enforcers’ lack of action and indecision. Several of the Crimson Lynx squad could have killed him already, had they only acted instead of demanding that Cad submit. The same was true of the ships encircling him now. One pull of a trigger would have ended the stalemate, but still they waited, following their set procedures and rules. And, like the Crimson Lynx squad, it would cost them their chance of victory. There is only one rule that matters, Cad thought as he prepared to enabled the armor shields. Win, at any cost…

Cad enabled the armor shields, which rapidly enclosed the ship’s critical systems, then locked onto the CSF fighters. Cannon rounds thudded against their armor panels, but soon the shots flew wide as Cad engaged the thrusters at full power, shooting them skyward like a jack-in-a-box. Squeezing the trigger, Cad launched two missiles and watched as the advanced weapons turned in a sharp arc and obliterated the CSF fighters, lighting up the night sky in a violent burst of orange. The dropships tried in vain to pursue, but Cad knew that they were only planetary aircraft, incapable of matching the advanced mercenary fighter for raw speed and power. Soon the clatter of cannon rounds impacting on the ships’ armor shields diminished then stopped entirely. Then moments later, they had pierced the atmosphere of humanity’s crowded and polluted homeworld and were again venturing out into space. Against all the odds, the mission had been a success. Damien Doyle was dead and no longer a problem. It was another testament to Cad Rikkard’s greatness. Yet one stain on his reputation remained. With the meddlesome tycoon out of the picture, Cad’s thoughts turned to the Wolf Squadron, and to Hallam Knight in particular. Finally, the revenge he so desperately sought would soon be his.

20

Hallam Knight toyed with the small plastic beaker on the table, rattling the half-dozen multi-colored pills inside it like dice. After successfully blasting off from the alien homeworld without getting cooked, Dakota had managed to navigate through the star system’s gravitational maze and jump back to Dr. Rand’s now abandoned moon-based hideout. As Dakota had suggested, Cad Rikkard had not nuked it, but left unchecked, the fires from the destroyed renegade fighters had consumed the entire hangar bay, incinerating the bodies of the fallen renegades. In many ways, Hallam was glad of this, as it had spared them from being consumed by the moon’s scavenger animals. And it had also spared Hallam and the others what would have been the harrowing task of laying the dead to rest.

Unfortunately, the fires had also spread beyond the hangar, consuming much of the rest of the hotchpotch hideout, which had been cobbled together from five mothballed super-freighters that Dr. Rand had salvaged from a deep-space boneyard. Incredibly, Bob the bear had been miraculously spared from the flames by falling underneath the console of Dakota’s destroyed fighter. It was a little scorched, and even more ragged than it had already been, but it was intact. Bob’s story was much the same as their own, Hallam mused. And despite casually dismissing Dakota’s jubilant proclamation that Bob’s survival was a good omen, Hallam couldn’t deny feeling buoyed that the little bear was once again part of the team.

Unfortunately, Dr. Rand’s personal lab had also been ruined, though the scientist had managed to rescue some equipment and medication from inside locked storage containers. This was enough, she had assured Hallam, to continue his treatments for Randenite exposure. Although, as usual, she had caveated this with a need to visit a dedicated medical facility at some time in the near future.

Once they had recovered everything of use or value from the hideout, they had no choice but to move on. Fortunately, the hideout’s store of Randenite had been kept safely away from the base, and there was more than enough of the dangerous substance available to fully refuel Alexis Black’s stolen mercenary fighter. At Dr. Rand’s request, they had then travelled to Carmentis, which with Minerva already gone, was now the second most dangerous place in the galaxy. As ever, the enigmatic scientist’s reasons had been mysteriously vague, though she had assured a skeptical Dakota and Hallam that everything would make sense soon enough. The trio were all now sitting outside a large freighter rest stop on the outskirts of Carmentis’ second largest city, where they had all gotten some much needed sleep the night before.

“You’re supposed to swallow those, not play with them,” said Dakota as Hallam rattled the pills around the plastic beaker for the sixth time.

“I don’t like taking pills,” complained Hallam, who then tossed the multi-colored tablets into his mouth and washed them down with the remains of his now cold tea. He grimaced, partly from the feel of the pills travelling down his throat, but also from the taste of the tea, which was amongst the most un-tea-like tea he’d ever drunk.

“See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” said Dakota, being intentionally patronizing. She then passed him the little biscotti that had been placed on the saucer of her coffee cup. “Here, this will take the taste away.”

Hallam scowled at the biscuit then took a cautious bite of it, but it felt more like his teeth would crack than the biscotti. “I’d almost forgotten how bad the food is on the outer bridge worlds,” said Hallam, dropping the indestructible biscuit into his mug. It landed with a sharp crack, as if he’d dropped a heavy pebble inside it instead.

Dakota snorted then tucked into her second fake-bacon roll. Fat dripped off her chin as she took an enormous bite before wiping away the grease with her sleeve.

Hallam scowled again. “And I’d almost forgotten how bad your taste in food was too,” he said as Dakota chewed on the fake-meat sandwich.

“You’re such a snob,” Dakota hit back, jabbing the half-eaten roll at him like an accusatory finger. “The only thing in the galaxy better than rest-stop coffee and fake-bacon rolls are the hot-dogs on Pales.”

Hallam snorted in response to Dakota’s snort, but then Dr. Rand peered over the top of her palm computer, finally chipping in to the conversation. “The hot dogs on Pales are good,” she agreed, causing Dakota to grin and take another hearty bite of the fake-bacon roll.

“So now that we’ve slept and feasted like Royalty at the…” Hallam paused and looked up at the sign above the door of the rest stop to remind himself of its name. “At the Flying Trotter Café…” he continued, shaking his head in dismay, “where do we go from here? We have the alien tech, but Rikkard has already laid waste to pretty much every hideout and outpost there is. And with the doc’s base destroyed, we have nowhere left to go.”

Hallam had intended the question for Dr. Rand, but she was again engrossed in the contents of her palm computer.

“Doc?” said Hallam, trying a more direct approach. “Are you still with us?”

Dr. Rand lowered the palm computer and met Hallam’s eyes. However, rather than the typical passive aggressive glare of annoyance she often shot him after being interrupted, she looked unusually disturbed. Then she dropped a bombshell bigger than anything Cad Rikkard had thrown at them so far.

“Damien Doyle is dead,” Dr. Rand said coolly. She then waited for the obligatory utterances of “What!?” and “How?” and “When!” from Hallam and Dakota before going into more detail.

“The news broke this morning, Carmentian time,” Dr. Rand continued. “The ‘official’ line coming from the Consortium press office, which is naturally being regurgitated as fact by all the Doyle-owned media, is that it was a tragic accident.”

“A tragic accident?” said Hallam, still struggling to process the news. “You mean, like being suffocated under all the piles of money that he’s amassed?”

Dakota snorted a laugh, spitting out a little bit of fake-bacon in the process, but the scientist remained stoic. “No, he fell from the top-floor of his tower on Governors Island, New York,” Dr. Rand answered, again with an unemotional coolness.

“But that place is like a mile high!” said Dakota, sounding more excited at that fact than shocked by it. “That’s some accident.”

“Indeed, which leads me to suspect it was no accident at all,” replied Dr. Rand. “And though there are many people that may have wanted Damien Doyle dead, I am at a loss to comprehend who would possess the ability to actually pull it off.”

“This is good news, though, right?” said Dakota, raising her coffee cup in a celebratory manner. “Surely, with Doyle gone, it will be easier to cut through his media firewall and get our message heard?”

Dr. Rand considered this for a moment, but the look on her face suggested she was less than convinced. “Perhaps, though, in the short-term, I doubt anything will change,” she eventually said. “The many facets of Doyle’s business empires will carry on as normal. As powerful as he was, we have to remember that there are dozens of senior Consortium executives beneath him, who will all want to protect their jobs and businesses.”

“I bet there will be one hell of a power struggle for the new top spot,” said Dakota. “Talk about the battle of the biggest low-lives.”

“Surely there are some people in Doyle’s top management team that aren’t soulless corporate stooges?” said Hallam, trying to be optimistic.

Dr. Rand tapped on her palm computer for a couple of seconds, then turned the screen to face the others. “Nature abhors a vacuum, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand with a raise of her eyebrows. “Doyle has already been succeeded by this man.”

Hallam leant in closer to the screen, but then almost fell off his chair. “He’s the new head of the Consortium?” he asked Dr. Rand, desperately hoping there had been some mistake.

Dr. Rand frowned and checked the image on the screen, but then nodded. “Yes, do you know him?”

Hallam ran his hands through his hair and leant back, squeezing his temples for fear that his brain might explode. “Yeah, I know him,” said Hallam, shaking his head. “That’s Dexter Stone, the head of the Consortium Security Force, or at least he was until I saw this.”

Dakota placed the last bit of her roll down on the paper plate and scowled at Hallam. Clearly Hallam’s admission that he knew the new head of the Consortium had been enough of a revelation to put her off her food.

“I know we’ve had our run-ins with the CSF, but is he really that bad?” asked Dakota.

Hallam sucked on his bottom lip then sighed through his nose, gathering the will to dredge up a part of his past he’d always tried – and failed – to forget.

“You remember how I told you that I got kicked out of the CSF advanced training academy?” said Hallam, glancing across to Dakota.

“Yeah, you laid out your commander for being a manipulative creep and sexual predator,” Dakota replied. Then her eyes suddenly grew wide as it dawned on her where Hallam was leading. “That’s him?” she said, almost yelling and pointing at the photo of the man’s square face and perfectly smooth-shaven head.

“Yeah, that’s him, alright…” said Hallam, casting his eyes back to the photo of Dexter Stone on Dr. Rand’s computer screen. The man’s face had aged and become more lined in the years since his run-in with him, but Stone’s narrow, deep set eyes were exactly as he remembered them. Cruel and conniving. “It’s just our luck that they replaced Doyle with the one other person in the galaxy who is a bigger asshole than he was.”

Dakota coughed while trying to disguise the words, “Cad Rikkard…” under her breath.

“Point conceded,” said Hallam, smiling. Then he looked back into Dr. Rand’s eyes. “But the point is, nothing will change while he’s in charge. I’ve tried to avoid anything about him over the years, but I haven’t been able to help myself from following his career. He hasn’t changed, and if anything, he’s even more hardline than Doyle was, with the added danger of being far less intelligent than he believes he is.”

The squeak of the rusty iron gate to the outside seating area opening then closing diverted Hallam’s attention. He looked over to see a group comprised of two men and one woman parade inside. Hallam sat back and glanced at Dakota, though her concerned expression suggested she’d spotted them too. Most of the people in the Flying Trotter Café were local ground or air freighter pilots. These folks were easy to spot from their thick accents and Carmentian clothing, which was heavily based on twentieth-century denim trucker outfits. The three that had just walked in wore Carmentian-style jackets over the top of well-worn, mis-matched combat gear. They were either low-rent private military or more likely one of the many outlaw bands of thugs.

“I think it’s time we left,” said Hallam, pushing his chair back and standing up. Then he suddenly remembered that he still didn’t know where they were going. “Assuming we have a destination, Doc?”

“Yes, we do,” Dr. Rand replied confidently. “I need a sophisticated laboratory in order to engineer an upgraded Shelby Drive instigator, and the Shelby Field inverter to repair the damaged bridges.”

Hallam waited, but when the answer wasn’t forthcoming, he was again forced to eke it out of the frustratingly secretive scientist.

“So where are we going?” said Hallam, still keeping half an eye on the three newcomers, who were already kicking up trouble by shaking down some of the other clientele.

“We need to travel to Vesta while there is still time,” said Dr. Rand, snapping Hallam’s full focus back to her calm eyes.

“Vesta?” said Hallam, sitting back down again.

“Vesta?” repeated Dakota, sounding equally gobsmacked. “After the anomaly hit it from the rogue world, that place is falling into its sun. The planets are already going haywire.”

Dr. Rand seemed to acknowledge this fact with a sort of half-shrug, half-nod. “It is decaying, I admit,” she conceded. “However, the system is in far better condition than the one we just left. There is still time to achieve what I need to do.”

Hallam rubbed his stubbled face. He’d been unable to shave, since the luxurious Flying Trotter Motel next door had run out of toiletries. Then he again glanced at Dakota, but she merely copied Dr. Rand’s half-shrug, half-nod.

“At least there won’t be any half-crazed alien warbots on Vesta,” said Dakota, offering Hallam a weak smile.

“That is by no means certain,” said Dr. Rand, slamming them down to earth again with the force of a building collapsing. “But, hopefully, it is unlikely.”

A commotion several tables over from where they were sitting drew their attention back to the thugs. The three recent arrivals were forcing people to hand over money, while the café’s owner was trying to encourage them to leave. However, Hallam knew the face of a bully when he saw one, and he knew things were about to get a lot worse.

“Come on; let’s go before this whole place turns into a warzone,” said Hallam, standing up again, and this time, the others followed suit.

“Stay on your toes, Hal,” said Dakota, walking close by his side, with Dr. Rand out in front. “Those three are trouble.”

Dakota had barely finished speaking before the female in the group of outlaws spotted them making a bee-line for the exit and nudged the other two thugs. Hallam cursed, realizing that they weren’t going to get away from the café, or from Carmentis, without a fight.

21

Hallam watched the three gang members out of the corner of his eye and saw them quicken their approach. He had still held out hope that they were just off to shake down another breakfast table, but the lead woman’s focus was now firmly zoned in on them. He flexed his fingers and cracked his knuckles, mentally preparing himself for the fight that now seemed certain.

“I wish I’d come to breakfast wearing my power armor, instead of this renegade gear,” said Hallam as the thugs cut ahead of them on the path leading to the gate. “It might have helped me to crack open that rock-hard biscuit you gave me too.”

Dakota scowled at him. “I think rock-hard biscuits are the least of our concerns right now.”

The leader of the outlaw group blocked Hallam’s path and folded her arms, sizing him up with her mud-brown eyes.

“Where d’ya think you’re going, fancy pants?” said the woman. She was probably in her early forties, Hallam guessed, but her straggly dirty-blonde hair and numerous missing teeth made her appear older, and more than a little haggard. “You have to pay the toll first, pal.”

“Get lost,” snapped Dakota, placing a hand on Hallam’s back to make sure he didn’t stop moving.

Dr. Rand tried to open the gate to leave, but one of the two men darted forward and slammed it shut again. Both of the woman’s accomplices were younger and also in considerably better physical condition than the haggard outlaw.

“Well excuse me, missy! That weren’t very polite, were it?” the woman replied, pulling open her jacket to reveal a pistol. Hallam could see that it was a CSF-issue sidearm, likely taken from an enforcer that had met an unfortunate end at her dirt-stained hands. He then glanced over at the two men and saw similar weapons concealed underneath their clothing. “Just fer that, your toll is double. Three hundred, fer each of ya, or we start takin’ fingers.”

The café owner then ran over, looking flustered and panicky. “Look, I’ll pay your toll,” the man said, holding his palms out to the woman while pleading with her. “Just don’t harass the customers. They’ll stop coming if they know you’ll take from them too. That was the agreement we had, right?”

The woman shrugged then rested her hand on the grip of her pistol. “Yeah, it were. But the worlds are going to hell in a handbasket, mate. It’s soon gonna be every man and woman fer themselves. So I’m takin’ what I can, while I can.”

“I’ll pay you the extra; just leave the customers alone, please,” the café owner implored. His knees were bent slightly to lower his lanky frame below the woman’s head-height, to the point where he was almost begging at her feet.

The woman sniffed then sighed obviously, making a show of pretending to be merciful. “Alright then, just ‘cos I’m nice. An extra fifty percent this week should do it. And get us a round of full breakfasts while you’re at it. We’re starving.”

The café owner winced, as if the sting of being ripped off was physically as well as emotionally painful, but he didn’t complain, and instead hurriedly backed away.

“Go on then, you three, sod off,” the woman said to Dakota while hooking a thumb toward the exit. Then she looked Hallam up and down again and smiled a crooked smile. “Unless you want to buy me breakfast, handsome?”

“Some other time, perhaps,” said Hallam as politely as he could manage in that moment. He could see Dakota shaking her head in his peripheral vision.

The older woman shrugged. “Your loss, fancy pants,” she countered, then rejoined her companions.

The two younger men stepped away from the gate and sat down at a nearby table, brushing dirty mugs and crockery off the surface with their muscular forearms. The plates and mugs smashed with an ear-splitting sharpness that made everyone in the café jump. The older woman sat down next to her companions, lifting her scuffed boots onto the table. She picked up a half-chewed corner of toast and gnawed on it like it was a bone.

Hallam sighed and turned to Dakota, who was biting her bottom lip, clearly trying to hold from speaking her mind. He knew what she was thinking because he was thinking the exact same thing, which was that these thugs needed teaching a lesson. Hallam and Dakota both turned to Dr. Rand, who read their intent in an instant. She rolled her eyes then pushed open the squeaking gate.

“Just don’t take too long,” the scientist said, as if she were addressing her teenage children who were about to enter a shopping mall. “And don’t get killed or badly maimed. Remember that I am a scientific doctor by profession, not a medical one.” And with that, she exited the café and began walking back toward their stolen fighter, parked on the landing lot a few hundred meters away.

Hallam turned back to Dakota and raised his eyebrows. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“You’re the one who taught me about standing up to bullies, isn’t that right, fancy pants?” Dakota replied, straight-faced.

“Sure, and look at what that got me,” said Hallam, looking at his pants and wondering what it was about them the outlaw considered so fancy.

“If I recall, it got you and me together,” replied Dakota with a mischievous little shrug. “So I’d say it turned out pretty okay, so far anyway.”

“Sure, that’s sort of a silver lining, I guess…” said Hallam, echoing Dakota’s mischievousness and getting a nudge in the ribs for his trouble. He then considered the wisdom of taking on three armed thugs on their own, without any weapons, puckering his lips into a sort of meditative pout as he did so. However, he couldn’t just walk away, even if that was the smart thing to do. “Okay, let’s do this,” he added, glancing over to the outlaw’s table. “Do you want to take down the wicked witch, or shall I?”

“Oh, she’s mine,” said Dakota with relish. “You start with the other two meat-heads.”

Hallam nodded, then saw the café owner coming out of the door with two plates of fried breakfasts. “Hold that thought…” he said to Dakota. He then strode off to intercept the proprietor of the Flying Trotter Café.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take those for you,” Hallam said to the confused-looking owner while taking the plates out of his hands. He then carried them to the table where the outlaw thugs had sat down, drawing bemused looks from all three of them, and also from Dakota, who was standing close by, hands on hips.

“Two fried breakfasts?” said Hallam as the younger men frowned at him, then at each other. However, before they could get a word out in response, Hallam had smashed the plates into their faces, like a clown throwing cream pies at a circus. The two men screeched and clawed at their faces as the hot grease burned their skin. The older woman then shot out of her seat and went for her weapon. However, the woman’s hand had barely reached the grip of the pistol before Dakota had hammered her in the face with a fierce roundhouse kick. The older woman was sent tumbling over the top of another table, knocking more plates and mugs to the floor.

Hallam advanced on the two younger men, who were still blinded from the hot food that was dripping off their faces. One was swinging wild haymakers into the air, while the other was struggling to draw his pistol. Hallam smashed a thumping right hand into the face of the thug who was reaching, hearing the crunch of bone. The man dropped hard to the gravel floor.

“Huh, glass jaw…” said Hallam, bending down to take the fallen man’s weapon. However, before his fingers had curled around the grip, he was kicked in the side by the thug’s companion, who was still wiping egg from his eyes. Hallam’s renegade armor spared him from the full effects of the strike, and he rose quickly, but by then the thug was on him like a rash. Hallam blocked two hard punches, which still hurt like hell, before countering to the body, but it was like hitting a sack of wet flour. Before he knew it, the man’s hands were around his throat with a grip so forceful that it felt like the thug was wearing power armor. Hallam thrashed punches at the thug’s body to no avail, then suddenly, the man released his hold and dropped faster than Damien Doyle’s share prices. Hallam slumped to his knees, coughing and holding his throat. A shadow crept over him and he looked up to see Dakota standing in front of him.

“This isn’t a sparring contest, Hal,” Dakota said, hands on hips again. “Next time, just kick in him the balls, like I just did.”

A wild, barely human screech snapped them both to attention. Hallam spun around and saw the older woman, who was back on her feet. One arm was resting on a chair for support, while the other aimed a pistol at Dakota.

“I’ll kill yer!” the woman squawked, trying to steady her wavering aim before firing a shot that sailed wild and high. “I’ll kill yer both!” she screeched again, still struggling to aim.

Hallam looked around for one of the other pistols, but the man in front of him had collapsed onto his, and Hallam didn’t have the strength to flip his mammoth frame. The other thug’s weapon had fallen too far out of reach. Improvising, Hallam picked up a plate that had been scattered during the fight and flung it toward the woman like a frisbee. Time seemed to slow down as the egg-stained white saucer cut through the air then struck the leader of the outlaw band directly on the forehead. A sweet-sounding ceramic chime filled the air and the woman was bowled over, toppling through yet another table. The plate smashed on top of her, along with three others, covering her with broken crockery and greasy café food.

Hallam blew out a heavy breath then rolled over the winded man, who was still clutching his privates and whimpering like a puppy. He took the thug’s weapon then stood up. Meanwhile, Dakota had recovered the other pistol from beside the body of the thug’s companion, who was still out cold from Hallam’s earlier knock-out punch. The café owner, who had been watching the scene unfold in rapt silence, then picked up the third weapon from beside the older woman’s unconscious body and shoved it down the waistband of his pants.

“Who the hell are you guys?” said the owner. The man was now looking and sounding much more assured, now that the older woman was flat out with egg literally on her face.

Hallam was about to answer, when the thug who Dakota had low-blowed climbed to his knees, groaning and red faced. Hallam pushed the barrel of the pistol under the thug’s nose and lifted his head so that the outlaw was forced to meet his eyes.

“We’re the Darkspace Renegades,” Hallam said, addressing the thug, but speaking loudly enough so that everyone in the café could hear. “And contrary to what you might have heard, we’re here to help. Even if that means helping to take out the trash.” Hallam kicked the man in the chest, flattening him to the gravel again. He then held the gate open and waited for the thug to crawl out on his hands and knees, like a baby.

“Don’t believe the crap about us that you hear on the Consortium-owned networks,” said Dakota, addressing the occupants of the café directly. “Listen to Falken on the BridgeNet. We’re on your side. We’re here to stop the bridges from collapsing. So spread the word.”

Dakota then turned and joined Hallam before the two members of the Wolf Squadron passed through the gate and headed back to their fighter, walking side-by-side.

22

Dakota maneuvered the mercenary fighter, turning to make a second pass around the laboratory complex, double-checking for any signs of life. However, like much of the rest of the Vesta system, it already appeared abandoned. Hallam didn’t consider this to be at all surprising. The surface gravity was already more than twenty-five percent above normal. And where the laboratory was located, on a remote island in the eastern equatorial region of Vesta’s southern hemisphere, the temperature was thirty degrees above the seasonal average.

Despite all this, Dr. Rand had assured Hallam and Dakota that they had been lucky with the laboratory’s location. Others parts of Vesta were already dangerously hot, to the point where nothing living could survive. It wasn’t nearly as extreme as the wild swings they’d seen on the alien homeworld. However, unlike that unique planet, Vesta was not destined to move into a new, stable orbit, even one that defied physics. Its decay would continue until the planet inevitably strayed too close to the Vestan star and burned up like a meteor.

That they had managed to enter the Vesta system at all was only because of their unique self-bridging drive system. The main bridge entry points to Vesta were now blockaded by squadrons of CSF fighters, each led by a single larger cruiser. No ships were allowed into the system without express permission from Dexter Stone himself. Almost all of the vessels that had been permitted entry were passenger transports and converted super-freighters, many of which had been brought out of mothballs to conduct the titanic planetary evacuation mission. The population of Vesta and its moon was comparatively small, due to its unique, privately-owned status, but there were still over a million people in need of transportation.

The cost in both Randenite fuel and dollars had been astronomical, but with the Consortium in desperate need of good PR, it was a cost the new leader, Dexter Stone, had borne willingly. The broadcast networks had used the evacuation to good effect, putting a new human face – Stone’s face – on the corporation, painting him as a savior. Yet despite Stone’s efforts, Falken’s hold on public opinion was growing ever stronger. The genius hacker had been able to foil the Consortium’s efforts to block or delete her messages at every turn, to the point where the secret about bridge travel and Randenite was well and truly out.

“Set the vessel down on the private landing pad in the east wing of the engineering complex,” said Dr. Rand, pointing toward the building to help Dakota identify it. “This will allow us direct access to the facility I need to use.”

Dakota acknowledged the scientist and brought them down onto the rooftop of the massive four-story complex. Hallam had already gone aft before the engines had even wound down, and was busy sorting through the wide array of weapons Alexis Black kept in storage.

“I don’t think we’ll need that,” said Dakota, pointing at the mean-looking rifle that Hallam was inspecting. Then she tapped the shoulder of her power armor, which all three of them were again wearing. “Besides, in this gear, we’re already walking weapons,” she added.

Hallam stowed the rifle in the magnetic mount on his back, and continued searching through the impressive arsenal the ship contained. “I love your optimism, Dak, but I’m not taking any chances, and neither should you,” said Hallam, finding some grenades and adding them to the stows on his hip armor. “That alien planet wasn’t supposed to have belligerent, super-powered police-bots, but we did a pretty great job of finding one and hacking it off. Besides, I’m still half-expecting Cad Rikkard to descend on us at any moment.”

The mention of Cad Rikkard seemed to promptly change Dakota’s mind. “Good point, I’d almost forgotten about those two clowns,” she said, reaching inside the weapons locker. She took out one of Alexis Black’s Five-Seven-Seven pistols and holstered it, then grabbed an enormous weapon that Hallam had passed by, mainly because he had no idea what it was.

“From one extreme to the other, huh?” said Hallam, watching Dakota slap a hefty-looking magazine into the mystery weapon. “What even is that thing?”

Dakota smiled and flashed her eyes at Hallam. “This is a semi-automatic, twenty-five-millimeter smart grenade launcher,” she said, looking like a kid who’d just bought a new toy. “If there are any metal maniacs inside that building, we’re going to have a very different kind of conversation this time.”

Dakota attached a spare magazine to her hip, then stowed the mighty weapon on her back. Relative to her lithe frame, it looked like she was wearing a rocket pack.

“You’re a little bit scary sometimes, but I like it,” said Hallam, grinning. He then hit the button to lower the ramp, allowing the already sweltering heat of the day to flood inside. Hallam was once again glad of his power armor and the temperature-controlled environment it provided.

“If you two could please refrain from blowing up this building, at least until I have completed my work, that would be most appreciated,” said Dr. Rand, stepping down the ramp. She was carrying the shielded container with the alien components inside and was armed only with her faithful palm computer.

“We’ll do our best, Doc,” said Hallam, following the scientist down the ramp with Dakota at his side. He looked around their new surroundings, marveling at the scale of the complex, which was even more impressive than the Consortium HQ where he’d spent his off-duty time as a tanker gunner. “What is this place?” Hallam asked the scientist, who was working to circumvent the lock mechanism on a roof access door.

“This was Doyle’s private research facility,” replied Dr. Rand while still tapping away on her computer. “Most of the Consortium equipment that was derived from the alien technology was developed here. Though, as we now know, the bulk of the alien components themselves were stored on the rogue world, which explains how he kept the origins of our discoveries secret.”

Hallam was only half-listening to Dr. Rand’s answer. He’d been distracted by a number of transports blasting off from four different locations across the water. However, it wasn’t the transports that were the focus of his attention. Also buzzing around the city and suburbs in the distance were at least six VTOL Enforcer dropships.

“How long will it take you to build the gear you need, Doc?” said Hallam. He noticed that Dakota had moved by his side and was also frowning in the direction of the city in the distance.

“I already have feasible schematics, and with any luck, some of my earlier work is still in storage here. The automatic prototyping tools will also greatly accelerate the manufacturing process. Even so, it will still be tomorrow, at the earliest, before the work is completed.” The lock on the roof door clicked and Dr. Rand pulled it open. She then hesitated and turned back to Hallam. “Why do you ask, Mr. Knight?”

Hallam sucked on his bottom lip and sighed before moving over to the scientist. “This planet may not be as deserted as we first thought,” he said as the engine roar of another super-freighter blasting into the sky caused him to peer back toward the city. “We should plan for unwanted attention at some point, especially now that we’ve parked a high-tech fighter on the roof. My guess is that someone would have seen us arrive.”

Dr. Rand nodded and led the way inside the research structure. Lights blinked on automatically as they progressed through the cavernous, multi-level engineering lab, which was filled with all manner of robotics and equipment that Hallam couldn’t even begin to guess the function of. With the machines all inactive and the space deserted, bar Hallam, Dakota, and Dr. Rand, it felt unnaturally quiet. It reminded him of the building they’d entered on the alien homeworld, which was not a memory he particularly cared to revisit.

“I am afraid there is nothing you can do to assist me,” Dr. Rand said, switching on a number of machines. The silence was shattered by the resonant thrum of a wall-sized workstation powering up, followed by a dozen robotic limbs initializing. Dr. Rand placed the metal container inside a compartment in the wall, and Hallam watched as it was drawn through into a sealed-off area of the lab. He watched on a panoramic screen, which acted as a virtual window inside the shielded space as six robotic arms swung into action. The robotic limbs recovered the case, opened it, and separated out the alien components with the dexterity of a team of brain surgeons. Suddenly, a strip of red light raced across the walls of the lab and warning notices appeared on signs positioned at regular intervals around the room. Hallam read one of the notices and forced down a dry swallow. “Radiation Warning: Randenite in use. Stay within designated safe zones and ensure protective personal equipment is worn at all times,” Hallam said, reading the sign out loud.

Dakota also scowled at the new warning signs. “That’s not very comforting,” she said, which Hallam considered to be another one of her startling statements of the obvious. Dakota then nudged Hallam’s armored ribs. “Come on, let’s leave her to it. We can maybe find a café or rec area overlooking the city, just so we can keep an eye out for enforcer drop ships. With any luck, they were all too busy to notice us swooping in out of nowhere.”

Hallam and Dakota said their goodbyes to Dr. Rand, though the scientist was already too engrossed in her work to notice, and headed out of the factory-sized engineering lab. It wasn’t long before both of them were bored stupid.

For the first few hours, Hallam and Dakota had merely wandered the empty halls before growing hungry and deciding to raid the facility’s impressive cafeteria. However, the novelty of free food soon wore off, and their merriness quickly turned to monotony. Soon they had utterly exhausted the very limited opportunities for entertainment that existed inside the giant science lab. They’d played a dozen games of pool, ten games of foosball, improvised a game of dagger throwing using kitchen knives, and even tried arm wrestling, until the third table that broke due to their augmented strength persuaded them to stop.

In between these shenanigans, Hallam had three times “accidentally on purpose” dropped by the engineering lab where Dr. Rand was working, only to be shooed away like he was an annoying neighbor’s cat that always crapped in the flower beds. With nothing else to do but wait, Hallam and Dakota decided to take turns going on watch, while the other kicked back and got some sleep. It had been Hallam’s turn for some R&R, when a bassy thud stirred him from his slumber on a couch in the recreation area. Yawning, he rose up, causing the couch to creak under the weight of his armor, and sleepily went over to the window. The sight of two VTOL drop ships circling around the installation snapped his senses awake like a slap to the face.

“Crap!” Hallam cried, grabbing his rifle from the table beside the couch and rushing outside the recreation area. Dakota was already running back along the wide corridor in the opposite direction.

“Did you see them?” said Dakota, who was brandishing the Five-Seven-Seven pistol in her grasp.

Hallam nodded. “Two Enforcer dropships, and they’re taking an unusually keen interest in an evacuated research lab.”

One of the dropships buzzed past the glass windows of the atrium at the far end of the corridor before climbing higher above the structure.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this…” said Dakota. She then slapped Hallam on the back, and both of them set off along the corridor, trying to keep up with the ship that was prowling overhead.

The dropship then slowed to a hover and Hallam slid to a stop underneath it. Through the wide skylights in the roof, he saw the CSF vessel drop two dark-colored objects from a compartment in its ventral hull, like it was dropping bombs. However, Hallam knew that the objects in question were not bombs, but something just as dangerous.

“CSF Enforcer Bots,” said Hallam, glancing at Dakota, who stared back at him, wide-eyed with surprise. “I think our little vacation on Vesta is about to come to an abrupt and very violent end…”

23

From the moment Hallam had spotted the VTOL Enforcer dropships patrolling the Vestan city, he knew it was only a matter of time before they were discovered. Dr. Rand had said she needed a full day to get her work on the Shelby Drive component and field inverter done. However, from the murkiness of the night sky, Hallam guessed it had been less. Though with the planet’s orbit and day-night cycle already in a state of flux, he had no real way of telling exactly how long they’d been on the planet. What he did know for certain was that they had to get off Vesta as quickly as possible.

“They must have finally noticed the fighter on the rooftop,” said Hallam, watching the CSF Enforcer bots stomp out of their line of sight. “Or if we’re lucky, they saw the lights inside the building and sent a routine patrol to check it out.”

Dakota nodded. “Given the amount of valuable tech in here, it would make a tempting prospect for thieves. Though sending Enforcer bots is a pretty heavy-handed response.”

Hallam snorted. “Welcome to Dexter Stone’s way of working.”

“Do you think we can just avoid them?” said Dakota. “I’d rather not get mixed up fighting a bunch of crazy machines.”

The sound of glass smashing drew their attention back to the grand atrium. Two more Enforcer bots had broken in and entered on the lower level.

“No, I don’t think we can avoid them,” replied Hallam with a fatalistic air. He knew all about the Enforcer bots from his time with the CSF. The machines were far smaller than warbots, standing no taller than an average person, but their programming was just as kooky as their military counterparts. “The CSF don’t typically deploy these things, other than in situations where civilian casualties are unlikely or unavoidable,” he continued, watching the bots march inside.

“Do I want to know why?” said Dakota warily.

“It’s mainly because they’re manifestly incapable of performing a task without creating a huge amount of collateral damage,” replied Hallam. He then shot her a wicked smile. “A bit like you.”

“Nice…” said Dakota, rolling her eyes. “But before they run riot in here, I suggest we get back to Dr. Rand and let her know we need to leave. As soon as either us or those bots start shooting, the rest of the CSF in the local area will be put on alert, and this place will be swarming with enforcers, mechanical and human.”

Hallam took the lead, moving swiftly through the labyrinthine interior of the giant research facility. The recreation area was two levels below the massive engineering lab on the top floor, where Dr. Rand was still engrossed in her work. However, they’d barely reached the foot of the first sweeping stairway to the next level up before the heavy thud of metal footsteps on the hard tile floor forced them to flatten their armored bodies behind cover.

“I only see one bot,” said Hallam, peeking around the corner and watching the faceless, cube-shaped cranial unit of an Enforcer bot scan from side-to-side.

Dakota holstered her pistol and drew the grenade launcher from its stow on her back, causing Hallam’s eyes to grow wide. “If you start shooting that in here, then the whole damn planet will come running,” he said, equipping his far subtler rifle.

“I don’t see that we have a choice, Hal,” replied Dakota, pressing the butt of the weapon into her shoulder. “Just get ready to take down the other metal maniacs when they come stomping after us.”

The Enforcer bot continued to patrol along the wide corridors, clunkily yanking doors off hinges and walking through glass partitions with all the finesse of a rampaging bull. Hallam and Dakota switched positions, moving up and ready to ambush the machine, when a second pair of metallic footsteps again forced them back into cover.

“Damn it, there’s another one coming up from the atrium level,” said Hallam, peering over the balcony wall down to the imposing grand entrance of the engineering complex.

“We’ll worry about that one later,” said Dakota, aiming over the top of the low wall and waiting for the first Enforcer bot to show itself. She slipped her finger onto the trigger then glanced at Hallam. “Are you ready?”

“No, but like you said, what choice do we have?” replied Hallam, flipping the switch on his rifle to automatic.

The wait for the Enforcer bot to show itself was excruciating, like hiding in a cupboard from the school bully and hoping he didn’t find you. Eventually, the heavy thud of the machine’s metal feet grew louder and it turned the corner. The bot then stopped dead and began scanning the area more acutely with its square, featureless cranial unit.

Dakota squeezed the trigger, hitting the machine in the torso. The explosion blasted the bot through the glass wall of an office, but in the resulting cloud of dust and smoke, Hallam couldn’t see if it had been destroyed.

“I’ll make sure it’s toast while you take the second one,” Dakota called out, yelling to be heard over the top of alarms that had begun blaring out inside the building.

Dakota had barely finished speaking before the cadence of the metal footsteps accelerated, and Hallam saw a second Enforcer bot charging toward him. He aimed the rifle and fired, raining bullets into the machine’s metal armor. Hallam could see the projectiles penetrate its thick protective shell, but the machine continued to stagger forward. Then it raised its arm and returned fire.

Hallam cursed and covered his unprotected head as bullets thudded off his armor, each hit feeling like a hammer blow. Diving behind cover, he heard another grenade detonate.

“Dak, be careful, they’ve outfitted these crazy machines with guns!” Hallam called out. However, over the rattle of cannons and the crackle of fires, he doubted Dakota would have heard him. “What kind of lunatic gives a damn bot a gun…” Hallam said out loud, though it was a rhetorical question. He already knew the answer, and that was Dexter Stone.

Cursing his former commander, Hallam pushed himself up and fired another volley at the Enforcer bot, but was again forced back into cover as bullets peppered his iridescent black armor. Checking himself over quickly, Hallam found only dents and scratches to the curious alien-looking metal, and marveled at how tough the armor was. If he’d been wearing his regular renegade gear, he would have been dead already.

Another grenade detonated, then Hallam thought he heard Dakota call out, but the sound was drowned out by the thud of an Enforcer dropship’s rotors. Hallam looked up and saw the craft slow to a hover directly above the atrium. The glass ceiling smashed and two ropes dropped inside, followed closely by another two more Enforcer bots.

Hallam cursed again and pulled a grenade from the magnetic stow on his belt. Dakota had the right idea… he thought, arming the weapon. This is no time for restraint… He sprang up and tossed the grenade at the damaged bot, then ducked down and pressed his hands to his ears. The explosion reverberated through the floor and walls of the research facility, and Hallam was showered with fragments of stone and metal.

Pushing himself up, Hallam checked the twisted remains of the Enforcer bot to make sure it was definitely out of commission, then ran toward where he’d last seen Dakota. Releasing the empty magazine in his rifle, Hallam slapped in another and rounded the corner, calling after Dakota. In his haste, he hadn’t checked if the coast was clear, and walked straight into another Enforcer bot. The next thing he knew, he’d been hammered across the chest by what felt like an iron girder and sent crashing through the glass wall of another office. Groaning and shaking the fractured safety glass out of his hair, Hallam looked up to see the bot, stepping through the rubble. Thinking fast, he grabbed one of the room’s thick metal desks and lifted it in front of him like a shield, using his augmented strength to full effect.

Cannon rounds thudded into the metal and Hallam surged forward, using the desk to bulldoze the machine through the glass wall of another office. Hallam could see the gleam of moonlight through the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far side and pushed on, hoping to propel the machine out and over the side of the building. The Enforcer bot dug its claw-like metal feet into the floor and managed to wrestle the desk away from Hallam’s grasp. The huge slab of metal hammered into the side wall, and the bot again struck out at Hallam with its powerful robotic limb. This time, Hallam was prepared, blocking the blow with his armored forearms, then whirling a ferocious backfist across the side of the bot’s cranial unit. The machine wavered, whirring and bleeping chaotically. It then raised its cannon, but Hallam caught the barrel and forced it away, sending a spray of bullets across the ceiling of the office. Roaring like a weightlifter going for a world record, Hallam brought his other fist down across the bot’s shoulder, smashing the limb clean off. With the threat of being shot gone, he then spun on his heels and hammered a double axe-handle strike into the bot’s torso. The power of the strike took even Hallam by surprise, propelling the Enforcer bot out through the office window like a cannonball. He stepped closer to the opening, seeing the machine smashed and broken on the asphalt below.

“Nice hit, Captain Kirk,” said Dakota, resting on a section of the smashed office wall. Her hair was a tangled mess, covered in dust, debris, and fragments of glass, and she was breathing heavily. Dakota then removed her Five-Seven-Seven pistol and offered it to Hallam. “Here, since our robot friend trashed your rifle.”

Hallam took the weapon, noticing the ruined remains of his rifle amongst the debris inside the adjacent office. “Thanks, though I’m not sure what use it will be against these bots.”

“If we don’t get out of here soon, it won’t matter anyway,” Dakota replied, releasing the chunky magazine on her semi-automatic grenade launcher and thumping in another. “I’ve got another eight shots, then it’s down to fighting hand-to-hand.”

The sound of more glass smashing and heavy metal footsteps heading their way cut short their brief respite from the action. Hallam spotted an emergency exit stairwell in the corridor behind Dakota and moved over to it, rapping his knuckles on her shoulder as he went.

“Come on, we can reach the engineering lab through here,” said Hallam, pushing open the door and quickly checking inside that the coast was clear. “Whether the Doc is done or not, we’re out of time.”

Hallam raced up the narrow flights of stairs, grateful for the power assistance of his armor, then cautiously opened the door to the upper level. Dakota stepped out first, grenade launcher held ready, while Hallam covered their rear.

“Her lab is at the far end of this lobby,” said Hallam, indicating the direction with the barrel of the Five-Seven-Seven. Without warning, two Enforcer bots then rampaged through the double doors at the end of the corridor, knocking them clean off their hinges. Hallam stopped dead, like a rabbit caught in headlights.

“Hal, get down!” Dakota yelled.

Hallam ducked and two grenades whistled over the top of his head, blowing the CSF bots to pieces, along with the entire end section of the corridor.

“Subtle…” said Hallam, letting out a heavy breath. Then he smiled at Dakota. “But I like it.”

Hallam and Dakota moved into the engineering lab, with more heavy footsteps closing in behind. Dakota covered them while Hallam burst through the laboratory door and saw Dr. Rand still working with the intricate array of machinery. She was wearing only her flight suit. The scientist’s power armor was stacked up against the far wall.

“Doc, we’re out of time. We have to go, right now,” Hallam called over to her.

“The mechanism is jammed!” Dr. Rand shouted back, fighting with the controls of the robotic limbs inside the shielded area. Her usual cool demeaner was gone, and instead, she sounded frantic. “The equipment is still stuck inside the safe room.”

Hallam peered at the panoramic screen, which provided a window inside the shielded lab where the scientist’s robotic helpers had been hard at work. He could see two cases on the floor. One was sealed shut, but the lid to the second was still open.

“We’ve been blowing holes in the building left, right and center, Doc, so it’s no surprise things aren’t working,” said Hallam, trying to usher the scientist toward the door. “But the building is crawling with Enforcer bots, and we have to go.”

Dr. Rand shook Hallam off and returned to the consoles. “If we leave now, we’ll never get another chance. We have to get those cases.”

Hallam growled and looked up at the screen again. Then an idea popped into his head. It ranked pretty high on the “stupid and reckless” scale, and he knew Dakota would hate it, but he also knew that Dr. Rand was right. Without the equipment, their chance of destroying the Centrum was precisely nil. Necessity outweighed the risk in this case, though Hallam knew he was already walking on a razer’s edge when it came to exposing himself to more Randenite.

“I’ll get the cases, Doc. Just go,” said Hallam, placing the Five-Seven-Seven down on the desk in front of him. “Dak is waiting outside; she’ll get you back to the ship.”

“Mr. Knight, another dose of Randenite radiation is the last thing you need right now,” said Dr. Rand, the concern visible in her puffy, tired eyes.

“Well, hopefully, you are actually as good a medical doctor as you are a scientific one,” replied Hallam, again trying to usher Dr. Rand toward the exit. “And forget the armor. There’s no time to put that back on now.”

“Very well, but you must limit your exposure,” Dr. Rand grudgingly agreed. She then collected an object that was resting beside her armor. It looked like a high-tech rifle, but from the unfinished appearance of the housing, it was clearly a prototype of some kind. “Just a little something to even the odds,” said Dr. Rand, noticing that Hallam was scowling at the device. Then the scientist became more somber again. “Remember what I said, Mr. Knight. Get in and out as quickly as you can. You are resistant to the debilitating effects of radiation poisoning, but not immune.”

Dr. Rand then finally left the lab, leaving Hallam alone to contemplate the daunting task ahead of him. He puffed out his cheeks and blew out a heavy sigh, stepping up to the door of the sealed laboratory. The red strip lights and illuminated signs warning him of Randenite radiation only served to intensify the flutters in his belly, but it didn’t change what he had to do.

Taking a couple of steps back from the door, Hallam steeled himself, then charged forward, hammering the heel of his armored boot at the lock. The door shook but did not break. Cursing, Hallam took four paces back, to the background of cannons firing and grenades exploding outside, and charged again. This time, the door caved in, and Hallam practically fell inside the shielded room. Nausea hit him almost immediately, as if the lab was spinning like the drum of a washing machine. He dropped to his knees and vomited, and for a second, he almost passed out completely, but just managed to stay conscious through sheer force of will alone. Making himself crawl over to the open container, Hallam slammed it shut then collapsed on top of it.

“Come on, get up!” he growled, fighting the sick feeling in his gut and urging himself on. Hallam grabbed hold of the two containers, hauled himself upright, and forced himself back to the smashed-open door. Picking up momentum, he crashed out of the lab then almost tripped over the broken remains of three more Enforcer bots.

“Hal, over here!” he heard Dakota shout. He saw her waiting for him at the foot of a stairwell. “This leads to the roof; come on!”

Dakota and Dr. Rand disappeared up the dark flight of stairs, and Hallam hurried after them, beginning to feel the nausea subside and the strength return to his body. He ran up the steep stairs, hauling the two suitcase-sized containers at his side, then burst through the door at the top. He let out another sigh of relief, spotting the fighter right where they’d left it. Hallam and Dr. Rand were already standing at its side, waving him over. Hallam smiled, realizing they were in the home stretch. Against the odds, yet again, they’d pulled off the impossible. However, before he’d even taken another step toward the fighter, three Enforcer dropships surged over the side of the building. The downdraught from their rotors blew dust into Hallam’s eyes, forcing him to look away. The Enforcer craft then slowed to a hover fifty meters from the mercenary fighter, nose cannons aimed toward it.

“Attempt to board that fighter, and I will open fire!” a voice blared out over an address system from the middle dropship.

The middle vessel then descended to the rooftop while the other two held their position, like airborne sentries. Hallam hurried alongside Dakota and Dr. Rand and reached them in time to see the rear ramp of the landed dropship lower. Three figures emerged. Two were Enforcer bots, while the third was a man, wearing a CSF officer’s uniform, adorned with the distinctive silver aiguillette denoting the rank of Commandant.

Hallam cursed. “I don’t believe it,” he said, watching the officer approach, illuminated by the searchlights of the other two ships. “That’s Dexter Stone.”

24

Dexter Stone marched toward Hallam, Dakota, and Dr. Rand, digging his heels into the ground like he was on parade. The commandant and new leader of the Consortium was flanked by the two Enforcer bots that had departed his dropship, both of which were aiming their cannons at Hallam and the others. Hallam glanced across to Dakota and noted that she was still carrying her semi-automatic grenade launcher, barrel aimed skyward. The curious prototype device that Dr. Rand had taken from the lab was tucked under the scientist’s arm, resting across the inside of her elbow, as if she were about to go game shooting.

“I said, throw down your weapons,” Dexter Stone barked, his orotund voice sounding almost as forceful as it had done through the dropship’s PA system. “And tell me just who the hell you are, and what you…” Stone continued, before cutting himself off mid-sentence and stopping dead in his tracks, his narrow eyes locked on to Dr. Rand. “Hang on, you’re Shelby Rand?” he bellowed. Stone then jabbed a finger in the direction of Hallam and Dakota. “Which must mean that you two are those renegades Damien Doyle was talking about,” he added. Then, unexpectedly, Dexter Stone burst out laughing, clapping his hands together like a seal. “I don’t believe it. Doyle had a group of halfwit mercs chasing you all over the galaxy in an effort to grab you without drawing attention to himself. But as soon as he gets himself killed, you just land right in my lap!”

Hallam placed the cases on the ground and took a step toward Stone, causing the Enforcer bots to aim their weapons solely at him. “I think you’re confused, commandant,” Hallam said, practically spitting out Stone’s rank like it was an insult. “We were just leaving.”

“I don’t think so,” Stone spat back, waving his hand in a forward motion. The two Enforcer bots at Stone’s side stepped forward, brandishing their cannons. Hallam felt a swell of panic in his gut as the machines advanced, but then the commandant raised his calloused hand. The machines obeyed again and stood down. “I know you, don’t I?” said Stone, tilting his head a little and scowling back at Hallam. “You’re that jumped-up trainee who thought he could take me on all those years ago, right?” Then he clicked his fingers and smiled broadly. “Hallam Knight, isn’t it? I’ll never forget that name. “‘Not Bright Knight,’ that’s what we used to call you,” Stone continued, chuckling to himself. “And here you are, still thinking that you can stand in my way.”

Two more Enforcer bots climbed up onto the roof from nearby stairwells and filed in neatly besides the others. With their arrival, Hallam realized that their odds of escaping from Vesta had shrunk to practically zero.

“As you can see, Mr. Knight, your little insurrection is over,” said Stone, gesturing to the bots and the dropships still hovering above them. “You put up a good fight. A better one than I would have expected from you,” he added, looking at Hallam specifically when he said this. “But it’s time to face facts. The doctor is coming with me to fix this almighty mess she created. While you and your renegade comrade can choose to surrender to me, now, or die.”

“We’ve fought worse odds and come out on top, Stone,” Hallam barked back. However, his bravado didn’t impress the commandant in the slightest, and the leader of the Consortium just laughed in his face.

Unexpectedly, Dr. Rand then stepped forward, causing two of the Enforcer bots to aim their cannons at her. The scientist gently raised her arm in front of Hallam’s armored chest then met his eyes.

“It’s okay, Mr. Knight. Please allow me to speak with the new President of the Consortium. Perhaps we can reach an accord.” Hallam scowled as the scientist then turned to Dakota. “Place the weapon on the ground, please, Miss Wulfrun. Everything is under control.”

Dakota also scowled and glanced at Hallam, who just shrugged in response. As usual, the scientist’s actions were unfathomable, but Hallam had also learnt to trust Dr. Rand. Whatever she was doing, she had a plan, and Hallam was confident that it didn’t involve surrendering to Dexter Stone. Dakota growled but then reluctantly placed the grenade launcher on the ground. She then took a single step back and lazily raised her hands to show that she was now unarmed.

“You too, Dr. Rand,” said Stone, pointing toward the object that the scientist was carrying.

“Oh, this is not a firearm,” said Dr. Rand, displaying a casual indifference to the half-dozen powerful cannons that were pointed at them. “This is the device I need in order to fix the ‘almighty mess I created,’ as you so eloquently put it.”

Stone scowled at the contraption then raised his cynical eyes back to Dr. Rand. “So you’re telling me that you can actually fix all these gravitational glitches?” he asked, folding his arms across his chest. The sleeves of Stone’s uniform jacket bulged as the man’s huge muscles flexed beneath the fabric. Dr. Rand merely nodded politely in response. “So why the hell have you been disabling our tankers and playing space cowboys for the last decade?” Stone barked, his voice becoming as bitter as the bile he was spouting. “You’ve caused a whole crap-load of trouble for no reason.”

Dr. Rand shook her head this time, though equally as politely as she had nodded it. “It has taken a decade to devise this technology, Mr. Stone,” the scientist said coolly. “Damien Doyle, however, did not want to believe there was even a problem to begin with. He tried to have me killed to keep his secret, in order to ensure the flow of Randenite remained uninterrupted. If I had not crippled the other refineries and taken further actions through the formation of the Darkspace Renegades, these ‘gravitational glitches,’ as you describe them, would have already destroyed every inhabited planet in the system of bridge worlds.”

Stone grunted. “Doyle was an obstinate ass,” he growled, still with his arms folded. “Things will be different on my watch. If it had been down to me, I’d have already destroyed your little renegade band using my elite Vanguard enforcers.”

Hallam snorted. “Such a big man. It sounds to me like you’re compensating for something.”

Dakota laughed, but Stone jabbed his finger at them both, his face suddenly flushing red. “Shut your mouths, or I’ll fill you two full of holes right here!” Stone barked. The Enforcer bots then advanced, raising their cannons. Stone spun around and angrily waved them off again. “Stand down, you damn idiotic contraptions!” he snarled. Stone pointed to an area of ground off to the side. “Go and stand in formation over there,” the commandant snapped. The bots complied, moving away from Stone and assembling in a vee-formation a few meters away. “These damn things were also the work of Damien Doyle,” Stone continued, hooking a thumb toward the formation of bots. “But they’ll be replaced soon,” he added mysteriously. Stone then glared at Hallam again. “As will the useless enforcers that have allowed you to run rings around them on nearly every damned planet in the system of bridge worlds. I’ll replace them with new Enforcers. Good, loyal enforcers, who know how to follow orders and keep their big mouths shut.”

Hallam took another pace toward Stone. “Why don’t you try to shut my big mouth?” he snapped, but again, Dr. Rand held up her arm to ward him off.

“I’ll deal with you soon enough,” Stone hit back, a sadistic smirk creeping across his face. “But first, I need the doctor to fix the bridges so I can get everything back to normal. Thanks to your meddling, our stock prices are through the floor!”

“Oh, you misunderstand, Mr. Stone,” said Dr. Rand, still an oasis of calm on an otherwise stormy sea. “I can fix the anomalies, but in order to ensure they remained fixed, bridge travel must end.”

Stone visibly recoiled. “What? What good is that? I need you to fix things, not make them worse!”

“It is not possible in the time we have left, Mr. Stone,” said Dr. Rand, a measure of impatience slipping into her voice. “The choice is to either repair the damage and survive as a species, or not. It is really that simple.”

Stone shook his head almost violently. “No, unacceptable!” he barked. “You’re supposed to be a genius. You’ll go back into the lab and figure out how to reverse this so that the bridges remain open. If other planets have to suffer in the meantime, then so be it, but the Randenite must flow.” Stone then turned to the Enforcer bots and waved them over. “Take her,” he snarled. Then he grinned at Hallam again. “And kill the others.”

Hallam’s mind started racing at a million miles per hour, trying to think of a way to defeat the bots and get away from Stone. However, it seemed like an impossible task, even with the advantage of the power armor he was wearing. Then before either he or Dakota could act, Dr. Rand again calmly intervened.

“Very well, Mr. Stone,” Dr. Rand said. The new President of the Consortium held up a finger, instantly halting the approach of the marching Enforcer bots. “I’ll do as you ask, but first I must explain how this device can help,” she added, bringing the contraption out from under her arm.

“Unless it fixes the bridges so we can use them again, it’s of no help to me whatsoever,” snapped Stone.

“Oh, it’s much more useful than that,” said Dr. Rand, which perked Stone’s interest again. “Allow me to give you a demonstration…” Dr. Rand then aimed the device at the group of Enforcer bots and pulled the trigger. The device emitted a vibrant, resonant thrum then released a flash of energy, which struck the formation of Enforcer bots. Violent crackles and arcs of electricity erupted from each machine’s cranial unit, then they all toppled over like paper cups caught in a gentle breeze. Before anyone could react, Dr. Rand had fired two similar bursts at the dropships hovering overhead, causing both to instantly lose power. The aircraft veered wildly off course then crashed out of sight over the side of the building.

While this was going on, Dexter Stone had crouched into a ball, covering his head to protect himself from the explosions and electrical sparks that had rippled all around him. However, the commandant now stood tall again, eyes burning into Dr. Rand like lasers.

“It’s a directed, high-power microwave gun,” said Dr. Rand, even though no one had asked. The weapon also began to crackle and fizz and the scientist deftly tossed it aside. “I designed it as a countermeasure, should criminal elements ever manage to replicate warbot technology. I’m afraid it remains somewhat temperamental, though,” she added as the microwave weapon exploded a few meters away from them, like a box of firecrackers.

“You’re still coming with me!” Stone yelled, marching toward Dr. Rand, red-faced. “I have a hundred more Enforcers in this area. You can’t escape!”

Hallam was quickly at the scientist’s side, and in a flash, he’d thrown a measured punch at Stone, cracking the bridge of his nose like an egg. The man howled and staggered back before dropping to one knee, blood gushing down his face.

“This isn’t over,” Stone snarled, clawing and spitting bloody mucus from his mouth. His voice now came across sounding slightly comedic, the way that people sound when they hold their noses and talk at the same time. “Mark my words!” Stone blurted, spitting blood onto his pants.

Dakota stepped beside Dr. Rand and Hallam, grenade launcher back in her grasp. “What shall we do with him?” she asked, though the question was directed at no one in particular.

“He’s lucky I didn’t already cave in his self-righteous head, instead of just giving him a bloody nose,” said Hallam, though he had to admit that popping Stone on the nose had felt immensely satisfying.

“We already have everything we need, right here,” said Dr. Rand, looking at Hallam and Dakota as she said this, rather than the metal cases standing beside the fighter. “Come on, we still have work to do.”

The Darkspace Renegades turned their backs on Dexter Stone, leaving him on his knees, cradling his broken nose. As they drew closer to the mercenary fighter, Dr. Rand’s palm computer bleeped a message. She plucked the device from her pocket and read it, her eyes growing wider as they scanned each new line of text.

“Good news, I hope?” said Dakota, still keeping half an eye on Stone.

“Curious news,” replied Dr. Rand. “But yes, potentially also good.”

Hallam waited for the scientist to elaborate, but as usual, he had to eke the information out of her. “Come on, Doc, don’t leave us hanging!”

Dr. Rand raised an exasperated eyebrow at Hallam before answering. “The hacker known as Falken wishes to meet,” she said. “Apparently, she wants to help spread the word and aid us in our cause.”

“That does sound like good news,” said Dakota, though she was a little uncertain. “It is good news, right?”

“I suppose there is only one way to find out,” replied Dr. Rand. “That she was even able to locate me on the Dark BridgeNet and send a message suggests her talents are not exaggerated. I could use someone of her abilities to help complete the work on my equipment.”

“But where is she?” asked Hallam, quickly adding, “and please don’t say it’s another rogue world, or a swamp, or alien planet filled with lunatic killing machines.”

Dr. Rand again raised an exasperated eyebrow at Hallam. “None of those, no, Mr. Knight.” she answered coolly. “She appears to have a facility on Vediovis.”

Hallam snorted a laugh. “Why don’t any of these people live on nice planets, like Tellus or Janus?” he grumbled. He then picked up the two cases of equipment and loaded them inside the cargo area of the fighter. Dr. Rand climbed up the ramp behind him, but Dakota was still standing on the rooftop.

“Dak, come on!” Hallam called over to Dakota. “Unless you want me to do the flying?”

Dakota didn’t answer Hallam’s call, and instead lifted the grenade launcher, pressing the butt into her shoulder. She aimed it toward Dexter Stone, who peered down the barrel of the weapon and froze before meekly raising his hands. Hallam’s heart started thumping in his chest, fearing that Dakota was about to turn the new President of the Consortium into a fleshy splat on the roof. However, Dakota then elevated her aim and fired. The grenade soared over Dexter Stone’s smooth head and smashed through the cockpit glass of his CSF Enforcer dropship, which was still parked twenty meters behind him. The grenade detonated, and the craft was engulfed in an enormous orange fireball. Stone spun around, covering his head with his blood-soaked hands, as flaming debris rained down around him.

Dakota unloaded the grenade launcher, casually rested it over her shoulder, then promenaded up the rear ramp of the fighter.

“Was that really necessary, Miss Wulfrun?” said Dr. Rand, switching to her mother-scolding-a-teenager voice.

“No,” replied Dakota with a smirk. “But it sure was satisfying.”

25

A masked and unidentified waiter entered Cad Rikkard’s private booth and placed a bottle of vintage champagne down on the table. Without acknowledging Cad or Alexis in any way, the waiter then set down two crystal flutes and popped open the bottle. The waiter, which could have been a man or a woman – Cad had no way to know – was wearing a visor as part of the stylish, deep purple uniform. The purpose of the visor was to completely cut off the waiter’s field of view below the nose, so that he or she couldn’t see the clientele they were serving. Cad ducked his head in an attempt to peek underneath the visor, but the waiter, who Cad was now fairly confident was a woman, simply bowed her head, thwarting Cad’s efforts to steal a look at her face. Alexis attempted a similar maneuver, but somehow the waiter always managed to ensure that they neither fully saw her or – more importantly – she never saw them. The waiter then promptly exited the private alcove without saying a word.

“You were right about this place being private. Those waiters are good,” said Cad, pouring the champagne into the glasses. He then handed one of the flutes to Alexis and reclined back on the plush dark purple couch with the second glass in his hand. “How did you know about this club anyway?” he added, taking a sip of the champagne, which was exquisite, as it should have been for nine thousand dollars per bottle.

“If I told you, then you’d be insanely jealous,” replied Alexis coyly.

Cad snorted, though it wasn’t so much a laugh as a grunt of displeasure. “Is the man I have to kill still around here somewhere?” he said, playing along with Alexis’ game. Since defeating and killing Damien Doyle and dispensing with the Crimson Lynx squad, his appreciation for her playful diversions had returned. However, his tolerance had limits, and a stab of jealousy was already jabbing at his gut. If Alexis had been referring to a former lover, Cad was only half-joking about finding and killing him.

“Who said it was a man?” said Alexis with a flirtatious smile that dimpled her cheeks.

“Now I’m more aroused than jealous,” Cad replied, returning a roguish smile of his own.

Alexis grinned then slapped Cad across his face. The crack of the strike was even louder than the pop of the champagne cork moments earlier. However, before the sting had even begun to subside, Alexis had leant across and kissed Cad’s face where her teasing blow had landed. “Keep your mind on the job, Mr. Rikkard,” Alexis said, taking a sip from the crystal flute. “We’re only here to lie low for a while until the data modifications have populated throughout the BridgeNet. A full celebration will have to wait.”

Cad grunted then threw back the contents of his glass and set it back down on the table. Pulling Damien Doyle’s tablet computer out of a satchel bag resting on the sofa at his side, he began to skim through the secrets it contained, all of which were now downloaded into his ship’s computer. As expected, the device no longer had access to Damien Doyle’s accounts and systems, but it had already fulfilled the function Cad needed of it. This had included transferring a cool five hundred million dollars from several of Doyle’s numerous accounts into his own private account. What had amused Cad more than stealing money from the now-deceased magnate was that the sums he had taken would probably not even be noticed as missing for several months, if ever.

The data changes that Alexis had referred to had also been made before their access to Doyle’s systems had been abruptly severed. After blasting off from the multi-trillionaire’s Governors Island tower in New York, the CSF had quickly put out an interplanetary APB for Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black. After news of Doyle’s death had gone public, Dexter Stone had stepped up to the plate and taken charge of the operation, gaining widespread support and cooperation from local enforcer organizations in the process. As such, the Blackfire Squadron was now the target of an interstellar manhunt on a scale never before seen in human history.

Even Cad had been forced to admit that they couldn’t evade thousands of CSF enforcer squads for long. So, on Alexis’ recommendation, the Blackfire Squadron had escaped to the leisure planet of Feronia, using the self-bridging drive technology in Cad’s fighter to avoid the usual interplanetary travel routes. Doyle’s unlocked tablet had allowed them to monitor the CSF Enforcer channels and slip past the hundreds of patrols and checkpoints that had been set up to look for them. More importantly, it had also allowed Alexis to alter the registry ID and description of their fighter, so that the CSF they would simply read the vessel as a completely innocent private trading ship.

Additionally, the tablet had provided the key to accessing Feronia’s exclusive private members resort on Paradise Island, south of the main strip. Cad and Alexis were now sitting in the opulent “Chatham House Club,” which – for an exorbitant price – uniquely guaranteed anonymity for its clientele. It even provided a shielded underground docking area for personal spacecraft.

How Alexis knew of the place, and even more importantly, how she was able to get them inside, was still something that intrigued Cad greatly. However, he was willing to let it slide, on account of the fact that the venue would keep them off the CSF’s radar. And it also provided time to allow the modifications to their ship registry and description to filter throughout the entire BridgeNet. When they finally emerged again into the warm, clean Feronian air, the CSF would be unable to locate them. This would allow Cad and Alexis to not only hide in plain sight, but continue their pursuit of Hallam Knight and Dakota Wulfrun unhindered by the Consortium’s efforts to track them down.

“We’ll need to find a new place to re-stock, now that Vesta is a burning rock of nothing,” said Alexis. As she spoke, Alexis was running her finger around the rim of her glass, making it sing like one of Feronia’s tropical birds. “It’s a shame that this planet doesn’t have any shipyards that stock weapons and any other gear we might need. Feronia seems to be the only bridge world that isn’t losing its mind, and descending into riots and chaos over these gravitational anomalies.”

Cad placed the computer back into the satchel, then topped up both champagne glasses. He could sense that Alexis was working up to something, but quite what it was, he wasn’t yet sure.

“We can pick up some small arms here if needed,” Cad said, again relaxing back on the sofa. “But my ship already has everything we need to take care of Knight and the renegades.”

Alexis switched to tapping the side of the glass with her fingernail, ringing it like a bell. “I hope this planet is still here after we take Knight and the others down,” she said in an off-hand sort of way that, ironically, Cad knew meant she was trying to make a serious point. “Minerva and Vesta are gone, and these anomalies are spreading. According to talk on the Dark BridgeNet, this planet will be hit soon, and also Orcus, Pomona, Vediovis, even Earth.”

“You think we should let Rand and the renegades complete their mission before we kill Knight? Is that what this is all about?” said Cad, cutting to the crux of what he believed Alexis was trying to say.

Alexis met his eyes and switched from toying with her glass to twirling the raven skull pendant hanging from her neck. “We can hardly celebrate our victory if there are no habitable planets left in the galaxy,” she said, finally speaking plainly. “Where would we go?”

“There’s still the moon Rand used as her personal hideout,” replied Cad, shrugging. Though, in truth, he had no desire to spend the rest of his life in isolation on that empty little world.

“Sure, or we can just jump blindly around the galaxy until our fuel runs out, in the hope of finding a friendly alien species that just so happens to be looking for two experienced mercenaries to hire,” Alexis hit back.

“There’s no need for sarcasm,” Cad grunted. He was now sloshing the champagne around his glass, spilling some of the fiendishly expensive liquid onto the plush purple fabric of the sofa.

“Look, if you want to kill Knight now, then we kill him, and whatever will be, will be,” snapped Alexis, suddenly switching gears and taking on more of her harder-edged persona. She had stopped toying with either the champagne flute or her distinctive pendant and was leaning forward, eyes locked on to Cad. “All I’m saying is why not let them finish their task first? Imagine how much sweeter it will be to kill Knight and Wulfrun when they think they’ve won? When they think they’re safe? The bonus being we still have somewhere to live and work when this is all over.”

Cad sighed and placed his glass back on the table. He then leaned in toward Alexis, like two boxers squaring off at a press conference. He couldn’t deny that what she had said made sense, but to him, the notion of allowing Hallam Knight to win – in any way, shape, or form – was simply unthinkable. It would mean that Knight had beaten him and accomplished what Cad had sworn to deny him. Killing was easy. Winning was what mattered. Cad had to prove that he was superior and force Hallam Knight to admit this to his face. He couldn’t do that if the renegade had already succeeded in his mission, despite all of Cad’s attempts to thwart him, even if that meant leaving the fate of the Bridge Worlds to the gods.

“The plan is already in motion,” Cad said, now switching gears as Alexis had done. “When the call comes through, we go, and we finish this. Then, as you say, whatever will be, will be.”

If Cad’s statement had provoked an emotional response from Alexis, he could not detect one. Not a single muscle in her face had even so much as twitched. The only part of her entire body that had moved at all was a strand of her hair, blown by the breath of Cad’s voice.

“Okay,” said Alexis, eventually breaking the silence. “Whatever will be, will be.”

Their exchange was interrupted by a soft bleeping sound coming from somewhere inside their private alcove. Cad sat back and began to search around for the source of the noise, his brow turned into a scowl. Then he realized it was coming from his satchel. Still scowling, Cad placed Damien Doyle’s tablet computer back onto the table and peered at it with anxious eyes.

“It shouldn’t be possible for anyone to get a signal down here?” said Alexis, glaring at the device with matching intensity and suspicion.

Cad grunted then tentatively turned on the device, half-expecting it to explode in his face. Instead, a message appeared on the screen.

“It’s Falken,” said Cad, causing Alexis to roll her eyes and relax back on the sofa with a relieved exhalation of breath.

“Of course it is,” said Alexis, picking up her crystal flute and taking a sip. Cad again marveled at how effortlessly Alexis could switch modes. “It does worry me that she seems able to find us so easily. What if the CSF and their new guy, Dr. Sloan or whatever his name is, tries to pay her off?”

“His name is Dexter Stone,” said Cad, correcting Alexis. “And I’m not worried about Falken. If she was going to sell us out, she’d have done it by now. She cares more about the challenge and gaining notoriety than she does money.”

“She’ll still have to go,” said Alexis, suddenly becoming cold again. “She’s too much of a risk.”

“We’ll take care of her soon enough,” Cad grunted. He then turned the device so that Alexis could see the screen. “Oddly enough, Dexter Stone is why she messaged us. Apparently, Doyle’s replacement has detailed a special enforcer unit to hunt us down.”

Alexis shrugged, appearing entirely unfazed by the news. “If they’re anything like the Crimson Lynx squad, I don’t think we need to worry,” she said before taking another sip of her drink. “Though part of me is surprised that Stone isn’t coming after us himself, considering his former position as head of the CSF.”

“He’s not coming for us, because Stone is going after Knight, Wulfrun, and Rand instead,” growled Cad. That Stone saw Hallam Knight as a more important target than himself was a bare-faced insult. “But Stone will not get to them before we do,” Cad added, dropping the tablet computer onto the floor and smashing it with the heel of his boot. “It’s time we left.” Cad moved around the table and headed toward their alcove’s private exit before noticing that Alexis wasn’t with him. “Are you coming?” said Cad, scowling at Alexis, who was now busy tapping away at the Chatham House Club’s self-service ordering computer.

“Just a second. I’m booking us the Sky Suite,” said Alexis breezily. “It’s six hundred thousand for one night, so it must be good.”

“Why the hell would you do that?” replied Cad, folding his arms. “We’re just about to leave, not head into the spa.”

Alexis completed the booking, tossed the ordering computer onto the table, then downed the rest of her champagne. “It’s on the top floor, well over two kliks up,” said Alexis, ignoring Cad’s grievances. She then slid off the couch and sashayed alongside him. “And it has a private landing pad, so once this is over, we can watch the end of the world in style.”

Cad smiled. “This isn’t the end,” he said, offering Alexis his arm, which she took. “We’re survivors, you and me. No matter what happens, when this is all over, we’ll still be standing tall, together.”

Alexis kissed Cad on the cheek then slipped her arm out from underneath his. “But before that happens, we’ll be lying naked in a half-million-dollar bed, way up in the clouds,” she said, flashing her eyes at Cad then breezing out of the alcove.

26

Hallam hammered his fist on the heavy metal door to the hacker’s mountain lair for the fourth time. This was partly out of frustration from being kept waiting, but also to help keep warm on the freezing mountain top.

“Where the hell is she?” said Hallam, rubbing the tops of his arms in an attempt to warm them up. Snow was gently falling onto his hair and renegade armor, and already the mercenary fighter, parked on the landing pad behind them, was covered in a light dusting of white. “Now I wish I’d worn my power armor,” he added, speaking through chattering teeth. “Who the hell chooses to live up the side of a mountain anyway?”

Dakota also thumped her fist on the door then waited beside Hallam, shivering. “It’s almost a shame that the gravitational anomalies haven’t started to seriously affect Vediovis yet,” she said while hopping up and down on the spot. “If there’s one planet that could do with moving closer to the sun, it’s this one.”

Finally, the heavy thud of a lock or bolt opening resonated through the slab of metal and the door creaked open. Through the gap, Hallam could see a petite-framed young woman, wearing a tank top emblazoned with the words “Welcome to Santa Clara, Murder Capital of the World.” The words threw him completely of guard, and instead of greeting her, he just stood outside the door, looking confused.

“Well, don’t just stand there; come in,” said the woman, energetically beckoning them inside. “Do you know how much it costs to heat this place?”

Hallam glanced at Dakota, who just shrugged, looking as confused as Hallam did. However, Hallam decided that being confused in the warmth of the hacker’s mountain home was preferable to being confused on a snow-covered landing platform. Picking up the two cases of equipment that Dr. Rand had assembled on Vesta, he stepped through the door and out of the cold. Dakota followed swiftly after him, a snow-dusted Bob the bear protruding from her back pocket, with Dr. Rand the last to enter. Unlike Hallam and Dakota, the cold weather did not appear to have fazed the scientist in the slightest.

It was only after Dr. Rand had entered, closing the enormous door behind her, that Hallam noticed the young woman was now the one who appeared to be frozen. However, it wasn’t because of the cold.

“You’re really her, aren’t you?” said the woman, looking genuinely starstruck.

“Dr. Shelby Rand,” the scientist said, offering the young woman her hand with a warm smile. “Pleased to meet you.”

Hallam imagined that in the time before her self-imposed exile, Dr. Rand was used to being treated like a celebrity, and it showed in the easy manner in which she responded to the young woman.

“Wow, this is blowing my mind, I have to admit!” said the hacker, still staring up at the scientist, wide-eyed. Falken grabbed Dr. Rand’s outstretched hand as if she were about to arm wrestle her, then pulled the scientist closer, bumping shoulders with her. “You can call me Falken, by the way, though my actual name is Liz,” the hacker went on to a slightly bemused Dr. Rand. “Falken is a bit more exciting, though, don’t you think? Works better on the Dark BridgeNet than Liz does anyway. A bit more mysterious!”

Dr. Rand continued to smile amiably at the young hacker as she babbled nervously. “Well, yes, Falken does have a certain mystique…” Dr. Rand added, slightly taken aback by the hacker’s instant familiarity with her. Falken then released her hand, and Dr. Rand gestured toward the barren, industrial-looking corridor ahead of them. “Perhaps you can show me around, and we can talk about your message?”

Falken nodded, looking a little embarrassed that they were all still standing in the cold corridor by the door. “You got it. Come this way, and I’ll give you a quick tour!” she said, excitedly skipping ahead of the group. “I’m glad you’re here. I’d hate to have to leave this place. If you can’t fix the anomalies, that is…”

“I’m hoping that you will be able to help me in that endeavor,” Dr. Rand called after the hacker, who was already far ahead of them. “Your ability to circumvent the Consortium media networks could also prove invaluable, but I’m really hoping that you can assist me in completing my work on a Shelby field inverter. I still need a number of control units developing and building.”

“I build stuff all the time,” Falken said, starting to jog backwards up a metal flight of stairs while continuing to smile at Dr. Rand as if she was the only other person in the facility. “It’s mostly gear to help me hack in to systems and steal money, but I do also know a bit about Shelby Drives,” the young woman went on, sounding undaunted by the prospect of helping the famous scientist. “I’m sure I can help you code and build whatever you need.”

Hallam imagined that Falken’s definition of “a bit” differed quite extensively from that of most other people. If anyone else in the galaxy could possibly have built a Shelby Drive from scratch, he guessed it would probably be her.

Dr. Rand and Falken continued to chat as Hallam followed them through the maze-like interior of the structure. His arms were starting to ache and his fingers burned from the effort of hauling the metal cases of equipment through long corridors and up endless flights of stairs. It made him wish more than ever that he’d worn the power armor. Hallam knew he could have offloaded one to Dakota, but his own sense of machismo prevented him from asking for help, especially since Dakota would probably just tease him for not being strong enough to manage on his own. Before his arms gave out completely, Hallam saw that they were finally approaching what looked like a living space, set high up on a large mezzanine. He took a deep breath, steeling himself for the climb, then spotted another heavy metal door at the end of a dark, dusty corridor.

“Where does that go?” asked Hallam as Falken jogged up the stairs to the mezzanine level.

Falken leant over the railings of the staircase, balancing so precariously that Hallam thought the hacker would topple over them, head first.

“It’s an old, disused elevator that leads down to the lower tunnels and mines,” said Falken, pushing herself back onto the stairs and ascending them again. “This place used to be part of a minerals and precious metals mine. The other areas were sealed up ages ago, before I took it on. I got it for a steal too. I even paid real money for it.”

Hallam snorted a laugh, finding it amusing that the hacker considered it virtuous that she hadn’t stolen something for a change. He was about to head up the stairs, when he noticed the smashed remains of what looked like a cleaner bot on the opposite side of the stairwell. Hallam thought about asking Falken about this too but was too tired to bother. Instead, he sucked in another deep breath and hauled the cases up to the mezzanine. When he arrived, Dr. Rand was already sat beside Falken at a massive desk, filled with a dozen different kinds of computers, physical screens, and holo screens, plus a chaotic array of part-assembled electronics and devices. Hallam set the cases down then noticed the vast rows of glass-fronted refrigerator cabinets and shelves full of snack foods. His stomach rumbled at the sight of some of the sweet and savory treats, even though he normally would avoid such things, and he was also gasping for a drink. Beggars can’t be choosers… he mused, realizing that anything cold and wet was better than nothing.

“Do you mind?” asked Hallam, pointing toward the fridges.

“Sure, knock yourself out,” said Falken without taking her eyes off one of the many screens she was now working on. “And stick a movie on if you like,” she added, pointing to the couch that Dakota had already planted herself on. “There’s just over a million to choose from, so you should find something you like.”

Hallam grabbed a couple of brightly-colored drinks from one of the fridges, plus a large pack of chips and a pack of sweet and salty popcorn. He then wandered over to the couch and tossed the popcorn onto Dakota’s lap.

“Oh, I’ll take the chips, if you don’t mind?” said Dakota, pointing to the other bag Hallam was still juggling.

Hallam scowled, rearranging the drinks and chip packet in his arms before making the exchange. He then held out the orange-colored version of the two sodas.

“Oh, and I prefer cola too,” she added while flicking through the menu system of Falken’s incredible repository of filmed entertainment, which dated back to the late twentieth century.

Hallam scowled again and swapped the orange soda for the cola. Dakota took it eagerly, winking at him as she did so. “Anything else I can do for you, madam?” Hallam said, putting on a voice like a butler. “Maybe a foot massage? Or would you like me to fan you and feed you grapes?”

Dakota smiled and hooked Hallam down onto the sofa with her outstretched leg. “If you can manage to shut up for an hour or two, you can watch a movie with me if you like.”

Hallam planted himself down on the plush sofa, grateful for the chance to take the weight off his feet. “Are you sure you don’t want to get in a few rounds of sparring? You haven’t hit me with a sucker punch or low-blow for at least a few days,” he said, popping open the bottle of orange soda and taking a hearty gulp. The taste was vile, but it quenched his thirst, and at that moment, that was all he cared about. “Or maybe you can wait for me to grab a shower, so you can whip my ass?”

Dakota shot Hallam a withering look then opened the bag of chips and offered it to Hallam. “I’ll pop you in the mouth right now if you don’t shut up,” she said, waiting for Hallam to grab a handful from the bag. “Besides, I think we’ve earned a little break, don’t you?”

Hallam munched on the chips, which tasted better than the orange soda. They were still something he wouldn’t ordinarily ever choose to eat. Hunger, however, had lowered him to Dakota’s standards when it came to culinary choices.

“This is kinda like a date, then?” said Hallam, cocking an eyebrow at Dakota. She had selected a movie that appeared to involve various fictitious alien creatures wearing monks’ robes and fighting with brightly-colored laser swords.

“Why don’t you ask me?” said Dakota, returning Hallam’s slightly sassy look before taking a long drink of cola.

“Hey, Dak, fancy catching a movie with me sometime?” Hallam said, playing along with the game. “Preferably before all the bridge worlds crumble to dust and the human race becomes extinct?”

Dakota let out a resonant belch, causing Hallam to pull back, partly out of surprise, but also from disgust. The smell of sugary cola mixed with cheese-flavored chips lingered in the air around them.

“Alright then,” said Dakota, pulling Hallam closer and surprising him even more by planting a cola-tasting kiss on his lips. The kiss lingered for longer than Hallam was expecting, but not for as long as he’d wanted, before Dakota drew back, smiling at him. Still in a state of shock, she then started the movie playing, pressed Hallam into the sofa, and nestled up against his shoulder.

They remained this way while the movie went on, though Hallam was too distracted by Dakota’s proximity to pay any attention to the frenetic action on the giant screen. To him, the feel of her warmth and the smell of her hair was more magical than any of the seemingly impossible feats the characters in the movie were performing. He didn’t want to move a muscle for fear of disturbing her and causing her to slide away, despite the fact that his arm felt like a dead weight. Eventually, he felt his eyelids growing heavy, and despite the sounds of fictional laser blasts and swishing laser swords, he found himself dropping off.

* * *

Hallam was suddenly woken with a start by the sound of an alarm or buzzer blaring out into the room. Rubbing his bleary eyes, he noticed that the movie was over and that a blank screen now shone back at him. Dakota was still resting on his shoulder, though she too was asleep. The buzzer rang out again, this time also stirring Dakota and causing her to groggily sit up.

“Doc, what’s going on?” said Hallam turning to look over the rear of the sofa to where Dr. Rand and Falken were still working on the computers. Boxes of electronics were also piled up on the desk and floor beside them, with puffs of solder occasionally wisping into the air above their heads.

“Oh, it’s just your friends,” said Falken, jumping up and heading toward the stairs.

“Friends?” said Hallam, pushing himself off the sofa and shaking his numb arm. “What do you mean by that?”

Hallam knew that it took a lot to distract Dr. Rand from her work when she was in the zone, but even she had stopped what she was doing to peer anxiously at Falken for an answer.

“The mercs?” said Falken, as if the answer should have been obvious. “You know, the scary dude with the sword and scars, and the lady who likes watching nineteen-eighties action flicks.” Falken squeezed one eye shut, seemingly deep in thought, then clicked her fingers. “Alexis, I think. The one with the raven skull necklace.”

Hallam, Dakota, and Dr. Rand all shot to Falken’s side in an instant, causing her to back away nervously.

“The man, is his name Cad Rikkard?” said Dakota, grabbing Falken by the shoulders and forcing the hacker to meet her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s him,” replied Falken, still appearing to be at a loss for why they were all reacting so strangely. “I know you guys have a history, but you sorted it all out, right? The merc took down Doyle to stop him hunting you, and now he’s helping you to fix the bridges. That’s why you’re all here.”

Hallam threw his head back and growled. He couldn’t believe they’d been so foolish. “It’s a setup,” he said, returning his focus to Falken. “Rikkard used you to lure us here.”

Falken shook her head. “No, he’s here to help,” she said, rushing back over to the desk of computers and opening a new window on one of the machines. “Why would he still want to kill you and the other renegades, when it would mean all the planets ended up like Minerva and Vesta?”

Hallam followed the hacker, with Dr. Rand and Dakota close behind, all curious to learn what she was doing on the computer. The scientist then appeared to notice something underneath the desk, which had previously been obscured by Falken’s huge chair.

“This is a command computer from one of the renegade hideouts,” said Dr. Rand, kneeling down and dragging the machine closer so she could get a better look. “Where did you get this?”

“The sword guy brought it here, back when you were all still feuding,” said Falken, again sounding confused as to why she was explaining details she apparently thought should have been obvious.

“You’ve been helping him to track down the Darkspace Renegades all this time?” said Dakota, her hands balling into fists. “You’re the reason he found our hideouts and destroyed them? Do you realize how many people he’s killed thanks to you!”

“He told me that you knew all this,” said Falken, finally starting to show a flicker of unease. “How can you not know?”

Falken then brought up an external camera feed of the landing pad outside. Cad Rikkard was standing in front of the thick metal door with a large container at his side. Behind him, Hallam could see their stolen mercenary fighter, with Alexis Black at its side, and another, identical fighter a short distance behind it.

“You’ve trapped us all, you damn fool,” snarled Dakota, grabbing the hacker by her tank top and dragging her away from the consoles. “He set us all up, and now he’s here to kill us!”

Hallam moved in front of the computer screen and saw that there was an audio connection, as well as a video feed. He enabled it and spoke into the mic on Falken’s desk.

“What do you want, Rikkard?” Hallam growled, causing the mercenary to look around for the source of the sound. Cad Rikkard then spotted the camera and peered directly into its lens.

“Time’s up, Knight,” said the mercenary with a sadistic smile. “Now you’re finally mine.”

27

Hallam cursed then slammed his palms down onto Falken’s desk, causing gadgets and empty soda bottles to roll off onto the floor. Pushing away from the computer, he held the shell-shocked young hacker by the shoulders and waited until her startled eyes met his own.

“The elevator shaft you pointed out to me earlier, does it still work?” Hallam asked. However, the hacker still appeared to be in a daze. “Falken, is there another way out of here?” Hallam repeated, raising his voice almost to a shout.

Dakota stepped in and slapped the hacker across the face. It was so unexpected that it even took Hallam by surprise, but the sharp shock also did the trick of rousing the young woman from her stupor.

“Hey, Falken, is there another way out of this cage or not!?” Dakota yelled at her.

“I cut power to the elevator systems years ago,” said Falken, suddenly coming alive. The hacker then jumped into her high-backed chair and initialized one of the many computers on the desk. “But I can power it back up again. Just give me five…”

With Falken finally mobilized, Hallam kept a wary eye on the security feed from the door to the landing platform. However, Cad Rikkard didn’t appear to be trying to break in to the lair. Instead, he and Alexis were working on the cannister that the mercenary had brought with him. Hallam had no idea what it contained, but he guessed it wasn’t likely to be good. He then searched for Dr. Rand’s shielded cases that he’d hauled inside and quickly dragged them out into the center of the mezzanine, wary of forgetting the vital equipment in the heat of the moment.

“Doc, I hope you got what you needed here, because we have to go,” said Hallam.

The scientist was gathering up various items from Falken’s desk and shoving them into a satchel. The bag had a picture of a bonsai tree with the words “All Valley Karate Championship, ‘84” written around it.

“I have almost everything I need,” said Dr. Rand, fervently stuffing items into the bag. Falken then unplugged a handmade electronic gadget from a different computer on her desk and handed it to the scientist. Dr. Rand looked relieved that the hacker hadn’t forgotten the item, and placed it in the bag alongside the other items.

“What don’t you have, Doc?” replied Hallam, noticing that Cad Rikkard seemed to be close to completing whatever he was doing.

“A ship,” said Dr. Rand, slinging the satchel over her shoulder and meeting Hallam’s eyes. “For this to work, I need to retrofit these components into a vessel that is equipped with one of my adapted self-bridging drive systems. That ship is currently outside on the landing pad, being reclaimed by its former owner.”

Hallam cursed again and pressed his knuckles to his chin, racking his brain for a plan, but all he could think about at that moment was surviving.

“We’ll have to figure that out later, Doc,” Hallam said, handing one of the metal cases to Dakota. Now was not the time for machismo, he realized. Then he turned back to Falken. “But we’re all dead anyway, unless Falken can get us out of here.”

A sequence of solid thumping sounds resonated through the mezzanine level. To Hallam, it sounded like relays closing and opening. Then Falken finished working on her computer and turned to him. “There, the elevator systems are initializing. It may take a few minutes before it comes back online, though.”

“We may not have a few minutes,” said Hallam, noticing that Cad Rikkard was no longer visible on the security feed. Both fighters had also gone, so that only the curious container remained on the landing pad. “Where the hell did he go?” said Hallam, frowning at the screen.

“Let’s not wait around to find out,” said Dakota, ushering Dr. Rand ahead of her. “We need to get that elevator door open.”

Hallam followed Dakota and the others down the winding metal staircase and along the dark, dusty corridor of the old mining facility. He set the case down and threw open the elevator’s external safety gate before hammering the call button. However, the elevator still appeared to be without power.

“The control components may have corroded,” said Dr. Rand, yanking open a service panel. The insides were covered in spider webs, and an acrid, burnt electronic smell filtered out. Dr. Rand reached carefully inside and pulled out a circuit board, which, even to Hallam’s inexpert eyes, looked obviously fried. Dr. Rand then glanced up at Falken with hopeful eyes. “I don’t suppose you carry any spares?”

The young hacker just shook her head. “We could maybe fix it, though?” she offered, kneeling down beside the scientist. “It only looks like a few of the surface-mount components are damaged. I’ve got stuff that could replace them.”

An electronic hum interrupted then, followed by Cad Rikkard’s voice, sounding muffled and distant. Falken pulled a small dataphone out of her pocket and held it up to Hallam.

“I relayed the external comm feed to this,” she said, waiting for Hallam to take the device. “Maybe you two can still work things out?”

“There’s no ‘working things out’ with Cad Rikkard,” Hallam replied, taking the dataphone off Falken. “But I’ll keep him talking for as long as I can while you two fix that elevator.”

Falken nodded and hurried off, racing back up the flight of stairs to the mezzanine. Hallam turned back to Dr. Rand, who was still cleaning out and generally inspecting the elevator control panel.

“Can you fix it, Doc?” asked Hallam, hoping that if there was ever a moment when the genius scientist could turn water into wine, this would be it.

“The circuit board is not badly damaged, but how quickly it can be repaired, I do not know,” Dr. Rand replied while continuing to work. “However, I may be able to bypass the controls entirely and call the elevator manually.”

“What can we do?” asked Dakota, who looked as on-edge as Hallam felt.

“Stall Cad Rikkard for as long as you can,” said Dr. Rand with an unusually chilling solemnity. “And find out what he has placed outside the door.”

Hallam nodded and both he and Dakota raced through the maze of corridors back to the slab-like door to the landing pad.

“I hope you’re sitting comfortably, Mr. Knight,” said the voice of Cad Rikkard through the dataphone. “Because I’m going to have a little fun before I blow you to pieces.”

Then Alexis Black’s inappropriately cheerful voice added, “Oh, and thanks for looking after my ship, and for filling up the tank.”

They reached the door and Dakota hauled back the enormous bolts that were sealing it shut.

“Why the hell are you still bothering us, Rikkard?” Hallam said into the dataphone, hoping that antagonizing the man would motivate him to keep talking for longer, to make sure he got in the last word. “Just how many merc jobs do you expect to land once all the bridge worlds collapse? Stop being a fool. Let us do our jobs and fix this!”

Dakota hauled the massive steel door open and stepped out into the snow. Hallam followed, bracing himself against the icy breeze. Then he spotted the sky-trails of the two mercenary fighters, circling around the mountain.

“You think you’re so special, don’t you?” Cad spat back as the fighters looped back around and began to fly toward the mountain. “Doyle’s intransigence and arrogance are the real reasons for these anomalies. He kept the problem hidden. But now that I’ve killed him and exposed his secret, a galaxy’s worth of the most brilliant minds are free to find a solution to the mess your precious scientist created. No one needs Rand or the Darkspace Renegades anymore.”

Dakota was now knelt down beside the device, cautiously checking it over, but the scowl on her face suggested she still had no idea what it was.

“And what if you’re wrong?” said Hallam, eyes locked on to the approaching fighters. “You kill us, and you just condemn yourself as well. That doesn’t make you better than me, and that’s what you really care about, isn’t it? It makes you weak and small-minded. Kill me, and you prove me right. Kill me and you prove that you’re inferior.”

The channel went dead for several seconds, during which time Hallam hoped that Cad Rikkard was having a moment of pause. However, when the mercenary eventually answered, it was clear that vengeance still blinded the man.

“Enough talk,” Cad Rikkard spat back. “We’ll soon see who is superior, when you’re a cloud of atoms and I’m still soaring above you, victorious.”

Dakota cursed then shot up and grabbed Hallam’s shoulders. “It’s a nuke!” she said, eyes wide and wild. “He’s rigged up one of the nuclear warheads that he stole as a bomb. We have to go, right now!”

Hallam took one last look up at the two fighters closing in on them, then threw the dataphone into the snow and raced back inside the lair, hauling the steel door shut behind him. However, if Dakota was right and Rikkard had rigged up a nuke, the door would do little to protect them. Their only hope of escape was the elevator, assuming Dr. Rand could even get it working again.

“How long ‘til it blows?” Hallam said, running hard to catch up with Dakota.

“No way to know,” replied Dakota, grabbing hold of an old piece of pipe to help swing her around a corner without losing too much momentum. “But it sounds like he wants to toy with us, so we may have a minute or two, if we’re lucky.”

The entire mountain then shuddered, as if there had been an earthquake. The sudden motion of the deck plates knocked Hallam and Dakota off their stride and both tumbled to the deck.

“Was that the nuke?” asked Hallam, sounding frantic, but Dakota shook her head.

“When that nuke goes off, we’ll be dead before we get to ask that question,” she replied, helping Hallam to his feet. “The sadistic asshole is just shooting up the complex and the mountainside to mess with us.”

Hallam and Dakota pushed themselves on, their boots thudding into the rusty metal decking as more reverberations rattled throughout the old mining structure from cannon and missile impacts.

“Doc, there’s a nuke on our doorstep. Tell me you’ve got this working,” cried Hallam, dropping to his knees in front of the elevator, gasping for breath.

“Almost…” said Dr. Rand, seeming to not react to the news of impending nuclear annihilation.

Falken rushed down the stairs with something in her hand and practically fell at Rand’s side, looking even more out of breath than Hallam did.

“Here…” Falken said, holding her sides and flopping back against one of the metal pillars that was propping up the stairwell. “This should do it…”

Dr. Rand took the object then disappeared inside the control panel. A couple of seconds later, the elevator powered up, and Hallam could hear the motors start to whir, hauling the elevator up from the lower depths of the mountain.

“Oh shoot, wait, I need to get something!” cried Falken, pushing herself up again and jogging back up the stairs as quickly as her tired legs could carry her.

“The top of this mountain is about to be blown clean off!” Hallam called after her. “You don’t have time for this.”

“I’ve got to get my drives,” Falken called back, her voice already distant. “They’ve got all my stuff, including my movies!”

Hallam stood up, ready to go after Falken, but Dakota pulled him back down. “Like hell you’re going after her,” she snarled. The statement was delivered so forcefully that Hallam didn’t dare move a muscle.

“She’s going to get atomized if she doesn’t get her ass back here now,” said Hallam. The lift doors then pinged like an old-fashioned microwave and slid open, grinding back years of accumulated dust and grime.

“That’s her choice, Hal,” replied Dakota, her eyes still burning with intensity. “We have to go, now.”

Hallam gritted his teeth, still fighting the urge to go after the young hacker.

“Damn it,” he said, grabbing the cases and hauling them inside the elevator. “She has until the doors close again…”

Hallam could hear Falken’s footsteps on the metal staircase, and Hallam urged her on. The doors started to close, but Hallam jammed them with his foot, crying out for the hacker to hurry. The lair was then rocked by another ripple of heavy quakes, and this time, part of the structure caved in. Metal beams and pipes collapsed outside the elevator door, and a girder fell from the ceiling, slamming into the door jamb and stopping the doors from sliding shut.

Hallam cursed and straddled the metal beam, bracing himself against the impact of smaller rocks that were falling all around him. “Help me move it!” he yelled to Dakota and Dr. Rand. All three then grabbed the twisted chunk of metal and tried to pull it clear, but it wouldn’t budge. Cursing, Hallam suddenly realized that the quakes and shudders had all stopped.

“They’ve stopped firing on the mine,” said Dakota, seeming to also notice the absence of cannon fire hammering into the mountainside. “We really don’t have long.”

“Step back!” cried Hallam, pushing himself flat against the rear wall of the elevator. Using it to propel himself forward, he then launched a drop-kick at the top-end of the beam, smashing it out into the corridor with a brassy clang.

“Wait!”

Hallam picked himself up and saw Falken trapped underneath a pile of rock and metal from the collapsed stairwell.

“Help me!”

Hallam started to go after her but felt hands close around his arms, yanking him back.

“No, we can’t leave her!” Hallam yelled, but the doors had already closed and the elevator had begun to descend.

“I’m sorry, Hal, but there’s no time!” Dakota hit back, letting go of Hallam’s arms and slumping to the floor. “There might not even be time for us…”

Hallam leant on the wall and hammered his fist against it. He wasn’t mad at Dakota – as usual, she was right – he was mad at Cad Rikkard, and his ludicrous vendetta against him. Falken, for all her faults, and the part she had played in Rikkard’s schemes, was about to become another one of his victims.

The elevator picked up speed, to the point where Hallam could almost feel his body leaving the deck. He slid over beside Dakota, hooking his arm through hers, and watched the level indicator continue to drop. Then it felt like they’d been blindsided by a truck. The lights went out and the elevator began to descend out of control. Hallam felt his body actually leave the floor this time and he cried out, but he couldn’t hear his own yells over the screech of metal grinding against metal. Emergency brakes activated and dug into the walls of the shaft, slamming Hallam back to the deck like a dead weight. His head cracked against the wall, and his vision went blurry, but he could see well enough to know that Dakota had also been hurt. Clambering over to her, he pulled her head onto his lap to cradle it, and looked over through the gloom to see Dr. Rand pressed into the opposite corner, blood trickling past her eye. Hallam called out to her and offered her his hand, but again his voice was swallowed by the howl of the elevator as it burrowed deeper into the mountain. Then the elevator stopped with a jarring suddenness that stole the breath from Hallam’s lungs. The last thing he remembered was the ceiling caving in, and rock and dust piling onto his body.

28

Hallam, Dakota, and Dr. Rand sat in silence as the mushroom cloud grew taller and wider over the top of the Falken’s mountain, or what remained of it after Cad Rikkard’s bomb. Dakota was again nestled up against Hallam’s shoulder, their arms hugging one another tightly, and again he was comforted by the closeness of her body. However, the emotions he was experiencing could not have been more different from those he’d felt in Falken’s lair, when they had fallen asleep together watching an old movie on the hacker’s cozy couch. Now he was simply glad she was alive.

Dr. Rand was sat next to them, hands placed neatly on her knees, watching the cloud rise with almost impassive serenity. However, from the lines around her eyes to the downturned shape of her mouth, Hallam could see that their shared ordeals had left scars on the scientist as well. She may have been a uniquely gifted human being, but she was still human. Hallam reached out and prized one of the scientist’s hands off her knee before holding it in his own. Dr. Rand smiled warmly at him and patted the top of his hand like a mother comforting an injured son before returning her gaze to the mountain. Even so, she did not pull her hand away.

The old mining vehicle in which they were all sitting had spared them a ten-mile trek through a maze of pitch-black tunnels that snaked underneath the mountain. They had, almost literally, stumbled on the vehicle after regaining consciousness and clawing their way out of the smashed elevator shaft at the base of the mine. The emergency brakes had succeeded in arresting their fall, mere meters before the elevator had smashed into the rock at the base of the shaft.

Dakota had found Bob the bear amongst the debris, presumably having fallen out of her back pocket while they were tossed around inside the elevator like salad in a bowl. She had patted its woolen head, as she always did, and put the group’s survival down to the toy’s lucky influence. For once, Hallam hadn’t the strength or the will to argue with her. They needed all the luck they could get, especially now, and he couldn’t deny that, somehow, Bob the bear had always pulled through. And, by some miracle of chance, so had they.

Mothballed over a decade ago, the underground mining operation had once transported the precious minerals and metals from the mountain to numerous processing facilities in the surrounding area, via long tunnels. This had been considered safer than transporting it over-ground, where bandits and outlaw gangs could more easily attack the shipments. As it turned out, the tunnels had not only safeguarded the valuable resources the mountain once supplied, but it had saved their lives too, protecting them from the blast and the immediate fallout from the bomb.

Dr. Rand had explained all this as they had driven their adopted mode of transport to the abandoned mining town they were all now watching the spectacle from. It was a little over ten miles from the mountain, which, as Dr. Rand had also explained, put them out of immediate danger from radiation fallout. Hallam had also noticed that the wind was blowing the fallout in the opposite direction to their blast-damaged little town. It was a small mercy, at least for them. The people downwind from the blast would not be so lucky, Hallam mused. Just more dead to add to Cad Rikkard’s butcher’s bill… he thought to himself.

“So, where to now?” said Hallam, breaking the funereal silence that had fallen over them all.

“There is a renegade outpost on Vediovis,” said Dr. Rand, still watching the cloud. “Or, at least there was. It is several hundred miles from this location, but we should try there, first of all.”

Dakota pulled away from Hallam and dropped down into the driver’s seat of the mining vehicle. “We’d better get moving, then,” she said, firing up the motor. “We’ll need to charge this thing up at a local town first. I doubt its old cells have enough juice in them to get us much more than another ten or twenty miles.”

Dr. Rand shuffled into the rear compartment of the vehicle and rested against the seat back, then raised her eyebrows at Hallam. “Well, Mr. Knight, are you going to take a seat, or do you intend to spend the rest of the journey up there, like a child on a fairground ride?”

Hallam huffed a laugh and smiled back at her. It was good to hear the old Shelby Rand again, even if it did mean suffering her usual passive-aggressive haughtiness. He slipped down into the passenger seat and smiled at Dakota before wafting a hand in the general direction that took them away from the smoldering mountain. “Lead the way, Wolf One… The skies are clear.” Then he scowled back at the mushroom cloud and made sure to point more directly in the opposite direction. “At least they are if we go that way.”

Dakota pulled the slightly dusty and grime-stained Bob the bear out of her jacket pocket and popped him onto the dashboard.

“We can’t go anywhere without our lucky mascot,” she said, driving away and U-turning to head out of the abandoned town in the opposite direction to the mountain.

“Hopefully, Bob can help us track down a ship too,” said Hallam, grateful for the feel of the wind in his hair. “Because we won’t get very far without one.”

“At least Cad Rikkard won’t be coming after us anymore,” replied Dakota, taking a turning that was signposted “Prospect Ridge,” which Hallam took as a good omen.

“Maybe, but Dexter Stone will not have abandoned his pursuit,” Dr. Rand added, which only served to douse the spark of hope that was starting to burn again in Hallam’s belly. However, what the scientist said next reignited it, like lightning striking dry wood. “However, just as Cad Rikkard and Damien Doyle have tried and failed to stop us, so will Dexter Stone. In the face of extermination, life always finds a way, Mr. Knight. And in this moment in time, we are that way. We will succeed, not only because we must, but because our will to survive is far, far stronger than their determination to destroy.”

Hallam sucked in a deep breath of the cool morning air and rested back in his seat. Cad Rikkard may have succeeded in exacting his revenge on the Darkspace Renegades, leaving the underground organization broken and scattered to the far corners of the galaxy. However, despite all his efforts, and his sacrifices, the mercenary had not beaten them. And even though he had no reason to believe it, Hallam Knight knew that Cad Rikkard would never succeed in that goal. Sooner or later, the Blackfire Squadron would learn of their survival, and Cad Rikkard would come for them again. It was inevitable, Hallam realized. Yet, what he also realized in that moment, as they drove away from the nuclear wreckage of Falken’s lair, was that it didn’t matter. In the end, hope always prevailed against hate, and the moment that fact ceased to be true was the moment the human race was truly lost.

“Last one to find a ship that can fly us off this rock buys the drinks?” said Hallam, turning his head toward Dakota.

“You’re on,” Dakota replied, shooting him a familiar smile.

Dakota joined the main road and locked the old mining vehicle into a cruising speed. Hallam glanced back and watched the broken mountain and dark black mushroom cloud slip further into the distance behind them. Then he focused ahead and didn’t look back again, because forward was the only direction they could go. Their next stop was Prospect Ridge. Hallam had no idea what to expect when they got there, but he knew that whatever challenges still lay ahead, they would face them together. And he knew in his heart that they would succeed.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

Thank you for reading Rikkard’s Revenge, book four in Darkspace Renegade.

We hope you enjoyed it as much as we enjoyed bringing it to you. We just wanted to take a moment to encourage you to review the book on Amazon and Goodreads. Every review helps further the author’s reach and, ultimately, helps them continue writing fantastic books for us all to enjoy.

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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.

THE STAR SCAVENGER SERIES

THE CONTINGENCY WAR SERIES

"Highly recommended - sci-fi fans will not be disappointed with this novel." Readers' Favorite, 5-stars.

Readers' Favorite, 5-stars

The Contingency War Series

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.

You can connect with me here:

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www.ogdenmedia.net

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