ROGUE WORLD

©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

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Other Sci-Fi series by G J Ogden:

The Planetsider Trilogy

The Contingency War Series

The Star Scavenger Series

1

Two bullets pinged off Cad Rikkard’s shoulder armor and ricocheted into the dusty soil, kicking up tufts of dirt. Cad peered up at the building to his left, his visor system highlighting the offending gunman with a red halo. He was hiding next to an upper-floor window of the drab-looking store. Cad guessed that the gunman was probably feeling pretty smug, having successfully taken a pot-shot at him without being seen. I’ll wipe that smug look off your face… Cad thought to himself.

Cad switched his rifle to precision-aiming mode and waited for the targeting systems to lock on before firing a single burst through the wall. He watched the highlighted figure spasm as the bullets cut through the masonry and sank into the gunman’s body. The figure then slid slowly down the wall and onto the floor. Cad would have preferred that the now dead gunman had seen his killer, if only for a fraction of a second, before his demise, just so that he knew who had bested him. However, he was already growing tired of the contract and wanted to wrap things up as quickly as possible. Suddenly, the thunderous boom of a semi-automatic shotgun ruptured the momentary stillness in the air, then Draga Vex drew level with Cad.

“The rest of the bandits are holed up in the vault,” said Draga, reloading the shotgun then stowing it on a magnetic mount on her back.

Cad grunted, peering down the long, dusty high-street of Sandown, a small mining town on the bridge world Minerva. It was one of dozens of such towns dotted around Deep Three, the planet’s third largest gold mine, which sank a full kilometer below the surface. The main mining operation spanned an eighty-square-kilometer block, around which towns like Sandown had sprung up in order to accommodate the miners. However, Minerva was a sparsely-populated planet with relatively few resources, compared to the more established bridge worlds. As such, the local enforcers were spread thin and unable to deal with heavily armed raiding parties, such as the one Cad had been contracted to eradicate.

Ordinarily, Cad would have never taken a simple cleanout job like this. The pay was mediocre and the fighting skills of the typical bandit groups were similarly unexceptional. Simply put, there was no challenge. However, Cad had needed a way to let off some steam. The sight of Hallam Knight tossing Alexis Black over the railings in Damien Doyle’s Consortium data bunker on Fortuna still consumed his waking thoughts and his nightmares. It was the first time that he’d ever truly feared for Alexis’ life, and it was not a feeling he wanted to experience again. That Hallam Knight and Dakota Wulfrun had escaped was simply salt in the wound. It was an insult as grave as spitting in his face, and the shame of his failure gnawed at Cad, day and night.

On top of this, Cad had also been forced to endure a humiliating verbal assault from Damien Doyle, who – as he had fully expected to be the case – had blamed Cad for the theft of the data. With Alexis still heavy on his mind, Cad had lost his cool and told the multi-trillionaire where to stick his contract before abruptly cutting the holo transmission and hanging up on the magnate. Ordinarily, he would not have acted in such an undignified manner, and he regretted his actions, though only because he thought it unbecoming of him. Cad couldn’t care less about Damien Doyle’s mission any longer, and he was prepared to face the repercussions should the vindictive entrepreneur make good on his threat to slander his name. However, he was not about to allow Hallam Knight and his meddlesome partner to get away with what they’d done. And so he would continue to hunt the Darkspace Renegades, until he had his revenge.

Taking the job to clean out a group of bandits who had clumsily stormed the town in an effort to rob the gold vault seemed like a good way to work out his frustrations, Cad had thought. He’d reasoned that it was preferable to kill people with the blessing of the local authorities, rather than murder someone out of irrepressible rage in a random bar.

“This isn’t as much fun as I thought it would be,” complained Cad, reloading his rifle, then slinging it.

“Then let’s do the vault the old-fashioned way,” said Draga, her level tone making it hard to know whether she agreed or disagreed with Cad’s assessment. “Fun” was not something Cad ever associated with Draga, even when it came to killing. To her, brutality was simply a necessity, as vital to her existence as breathing or sleeping.

Cad grunted again, though his mind had already begun to wander. He’d sought a distraction from his concerns about Alexis, who was still in an induced coma in the top private hospital on Fortuna. He was unaccustomed to feeling vulnerable and detested the emotion. Cad believed that it made him weak. However, as much as he’d tried to fight the swell of feelings assaulting his mind and body, he’d been unable to shake the disquieting thoughts from his head. So, instead, he had chosen to occupy himself with an activity that would not only provide a diversion from his anxieties, but also allow him to sharpen his killer instincts. The bandits holed up in the Sandown gold vault would serve as a suitable whetstone.

While Cad had been lost in his own thoughts, Draga had been quietly planning their next assault. If she had also been concerned for Alexis’ wellbeing, she had not shown it. Cad did not hold this against her, however – in many respects, he envied Draga’s cold objectivity. It was what made her so effective as a mercenary. In her own way, Cad knew that Draga cared for Alexis, and that she would be on Draga’s mind, just as she was on Cad’s. It was not anything so trite as sisterhood, or even friendship. Both women had been forged in fires of a different kind. Alexis’ fire had come from within, from a desire to break the chains of her staid, privileged upbringing, and give herself over to her baser instincts, where her warrior persona could run wild. Conversely, Draga’s fire had been kindled in the ghettos of Vediovis, where, from an early age, she’d had to fight in order to survive. However, like different metals mixed into an alloy, together the two were always stronger.

“What are we dealing with in there?” asked Cad as the wind kicked up some dust and whipped it around the ankles of his power armor.

“Amateurs,” said Draga plainly as two small drones landed on the back of her shoulders and sank into the armor. “There are four outlaws on the roof and six inside, all in the main foyer of the vault. None are carrying weapons that pose a serious threat to our armor.”

Cad nodded and drew his Black Prince sword. “I’ll take the lower level,” he said as the outlines of the bandits flashed up in his visor; new data that had just been fed through from Draga’s drones. Though she would never openly question his orders, Cad knew that if Alexis were here, she would have commented on the wisdom of tackling six armed bandits by himself, using only a sword. However, he also knew that Draga would offer no such concerns. Her only qualm would be that Cad got more people to kill than she did.

Draga took the lead as the two mercenaries marched down the deserted, dusty road, toward the vault. The residents and store owners of the town were either holed up inside their buildings or had already fled, only to return once the bullets stopped flying. As such, the place had an eerie, ghost-town feel to it.

Cad observed Draga entering a sequence of commands into her wrist computer. In his own visor display, he saw that she had increased the power assistance of her suit by fifty percent and enabled her jet thruster systems. The shotgun had remained stowed on her back, however.

“Aren’t you going to need that?” said Cad, pointing to the high-powered semi-automatic weapon.

Draga shook her head. “No, it would be over too quickly,” she replied before jogging out ahead of Cad. “Let me know when you’re done with the other. I’ll be waiting.”

Cad huffed a laugh, guessing what Draga had in mind, then watched as she ignited the thrusters and jetted into the hazy sky above Sandown. The crack of small-arms fire soon followed, but the bandits’ aim was as poor as their tactics. Cad halted his advance toward the vault and enhanced the view in his visor, curious to see how his ruthless companion dealt with the group on the roof.

Sparks flashed on Draga’s body as the bandits finally zeroed in on her, but their meager firearms had no effect on her advanced armor. Then the mercenary cut power to her suit’s thrusters and dropped like a meteorite, directly onto one of the bandits. It was like an elephant stomping on a snail, and Cad heard the organic crunch of bone through his enhanced audio sensors. The three remaining bandits all opened fire at close range, but Draga had rolled through her fall and was on top of the second man within seconds. Catching the bandit by his throat, Draga hurled the man over the wall, sending him soaring through the sky like a javelin. The bandit had barely smashed into the dusty road below before Draga had moved on to the final two outlaws. Both unloaded their pistols at her at near point-blank range, but Draga advanced with undiminished ferocity, smashing her fist into the nose of the first bandit. The punch was delivered with such brutal accuracy that the woman’s face caved in from the impact. The grim sight was clearly too much for the final bandit to stomach, and she dropped to her knees, throwing down her weapon. Arms raised in surrender, the woman began to beg for mercy, but Draga had already clutched her hands around her throat and raised the woman into the air. The bandit’s legs flailed helplessly as Draga suspended her above the roof, her clasped hands acting as a noose around the woman’s neck.

Cad let out a huff of appreciation and continued on toward the vault entrance, while Draga finished strangling the female bandit on the roof. Cad had always enjoyed watching Draga work, especially when she was at her most sadistic, and witnessing her craft had whet his own appetite for blood.

Grabbing a grenade from its magnetic stow on the rear of his hip, Cad launched the explosive at the door leading into the vault. Prior to Cad’s arrival, the bandits had blockaded it with wooden cabinets and even mattresses in a pathetic attempt to fortify their position. It reminded Cad of the barricade that the rebels had erected in Les Misérables. However, this barrier would prove as futile as the one built by the revolutionary students of Paris, Cad thought.

The grenade exploded, kicking up a thick plume of dust and smoke, and showering Cad’s iridescent black armor with a fountain of debris. Cad drove on, deflecting the rubble like hailstones bouncing off a windshield. He continued his calm and measured advance, taking careful note of the locations of the bandits inside the vault. Panicked shouts and cries filtered through the smoke, and gunshots rang out. Two bandits tried to run, shielding their eyes with their hands and coughing bitterly as the acrid dust entered their lungs. Cad flourished the Black Prince then swung hard through the man’s body, slicing the bandit in half above the hips. Continuing in one fluid move, he then slashed the sword down at the next fleeing bandit, cutting through her collar bone and driving the edge of the blade deep into the bandit’s chest. Dust from the grenade explosion was beginning to settle and some of the frenetic gunshots started to land on Cad’s body, but his armor withstood the impacts as effortlessly as it had deflected the rubble from the explosion.

Thrusting the tip of the sword through the neck of another bandit, Cad was then confronted with the barrel of a pistol. He caught the attacker’s wrist, leaving the Black Prince sword impaled through the bandit’s comrade, and deflected the weapon’s aim. There was a sharp crack as the pistol fired, sending the round flying inches to the side of Cad’s head. He then snapped the attacker’s wrist, enjoying the man’s howl of pain before yanking the sword from the neck of the first bandit and slicing the arm clean off above the elbow. Hot, red blood splashed over his black armor as the bandit staggered into the dust, staring at his bleeding stump in shock and disbelief.

Having witnessed the scene, the final two bandits threw down their weapons, and one dropped to his knees, begging for his life. The bandit’s feeble cries offended Cad, and he launched a kick at him, driving the man’s head into the stone wall. The remaining bandit blabbed a similarly incoherent plea, as a bag filled with gold bullion spilled to the floor. Compared to the dust and death surrounding him, the shimmer of the metal was like sunlight filtering through clouds. Cad picked up one of the larger bars and admired it, while the man continued to beg for his life. Cad cared little for material possessions, but the gold bar was something he could appreciate. It was pure and perfect, and impossible to improve upon. It was everything he sought to become.

“Here…” said Cad, thrusting the bar toward the bandit. The man frowned, taking the gold into his trembling hands, looking down at the bar with terrified, quivering eyes. “You died for this, so you may as well die with it,” Cad added. And before the bandit could again raise his gaze to meet Cad’s eyes, Cad had swung the sword down with all his augmented might, cutting through the bandit’s body and slicing the gold bar clean in half.

Cad sighed and cleaned the blade of the Black Prince sword on the clothes of one of the dead men, then slid it back into its sheath. Even close quarters action hadn’t given him the satisfaction he’d been craving, though it had at least distracted him from thoughts of Alexis. Thoughts that were already flooding back into his mind as his heart-rate began to slow.

The internal comm channel inside his helmet clicked on, and Cad heard Draga’s voice cleanly over the speaker. She was calm but urgent.

“We may have a problem,” Draga said. “I need you up here on the roof.”

“I’m on my way,” Cad replied, knowing that anything Draga considered “might” be a problem almost certainly was one – and a serious one at that. He climbed over the rubble where the front door of the vault had been before he’d blown a hole there. The bandit whose arm Cad had severed was wandering around outside, looking lost and confused. Cad shook his head and drew his pistol from his hip, shooting the bandit in the head. It wasn’t an act of mercy – the bandit was simply distracting him. Cad then peered into the sky and saw two ships approaching, their inky black exhaust trails visible on the horizon. Cad engaged his thruster system and flew up onto the roof, landing expertly beside Draga. “What is it?” he said to his partner, assuming that she had already run an analysis.

“It’s Group X,” said Draga stiffly. “And they appear to be heading in this direction.”

“Group X?” said Cad, frowning while enhancing the view of the ships in his visor. “What the hell is that idiot Xander Blade and his merry band of morons doing here?”

“It could be a mistake,” Draga answered, though she didn’t sound convinced by her own suggestion. “The local administrators could have issued the contract on these bandits twice.”

Cad grunted, but then shook his head. “No, I don’t think so,” he replied, continuing to watch the vessels as they approached. Something didn’t add up. Then an alert chimed inside Cad’s helmet, coinciding with a third trail of smoke appearing on the horizon. The lead ship had just launched a missile, and it was heading directly for them.

2

Cad Rikkard and Draga Vex barely had time to engage the thrusters in their power armor before being forced to leap from the rooftop of the gold vault. A split-second later, the missile fired by the Group X shuttle slammed into the building and detonated. The blast pushed Cad off course and he smashed into the wall of a store building on the opposite side of the dusty street. Digging his armored fingers into the stone, he fought to control his descent, but the thrusters continued to fire, grinding his armored body against the rough surface like a whetstone sharpening a blade. Reaching for the control panel in his forearm, Cad managed to cut the thrusters, then slid down the wall, fingers still scrabbling against the stone until he thumped into the ground like a dead weight.

Draga hauled Cad out of the body-shaped imprint his armor had dug into the dusty soil. Without thanking her, Cad turned to look at the remains of the vault. Thanks to the vision enhancement system in his visor, he was able to see through the smoke and dust. He spotted the Group X shuttle hovering a few hundred meters beyond the town’s borders. Xander Blade was no doubt waiting to see if Cad emerged from the wreckage before closing in to confirm the kill, Cad reasoned.

“They’ll move in soon to make sure that we’re dead,” said Cad, checking that his Black Prince sword had survived the fall. The pommel and cross-guard had been scuffed against the stone wall, adding more battle damage to the once pristine weapon. Cad cursed bitterly then peered back up at the Group-X ship. “Switch on your electronic jamming system,” said Cad while activating the same system in his own armor. “That will make it difficult for their sensors to get a lock on us and force them to get in close. Hopefully, even close enough for a sword, because Xander Blade is going to pay for this.”

Draga nodded and enabled the system in her suit. “We should head back to the ATV,” she said, peering along the main street toward where they’d parked a small ground transit.

In order that they didn’t tip off the bandits to their approach, Cad and Draga had landed their fighters in the city spaceport, twenty miles south. They’d rented a battered all-terrain vehicle to reach the mining town, ensuring they kept a low profile. Draga had stowed a combat pod from her ship in the ATV’s cargo bed. Cad had considered this unnecessary excess baggage, since they were only dealing with a band of halfwit local outlaws, but he was glad to be wrong on this occasion. Not that he’d admit it.

“They’ll swoop in low and try to strafe us with their autocannon first,” Draga continued, unaware of Cad’s quiet musings. “And if that fails, we should expect them to come at us on foot.”

“I want them to come at us on foot,” said Cad as he and Draga backed away down an alley to stay out of sight. The Group X combat shuttle had already started to creep closer to the town, but its cautious approach told Cad that Xander Blade assumed he was still alive. He’d always considered Xander Blade a nuisance, albeit a harmless one, but now the rival mercenary had crossed the line. Now Xander Blade would meet his namesake.

“I trust you have something in the combat pod that will take care of that shuttle?” asked Cad before the Group-X craft began strafing what remained of the gold vault building.

“I do,” replied Draga coolly.

“Then go,” said Cad. “I’ll keep that moron Xander Blade distracted.”

Draga moved out without another word while Cad remained hidden, watching the shuttle slowly turn its guns toward the high street. The dust was starting to settle, and while his power armor would confuse the vessel’s sensors, it wouldn’t blind the mercenary group’s eyes.

The shuttle then spun its nose along the street and abruptly veered off in the direction Draga had run. Cursing, Cad charged out from cover, realizing that Draga had been sighted. He unslung his rifle, and using his visor system to target the shuttle’s cockpit glass, he fired three precision-guided bursts. Some of the bullets rattled off the shuttle’s thick armor, but then he saw narrow cracks appear in the glass. Cad slid to a stop in the middle of the street, waiting to see if he’d gotten Xander Blade’s attention, and sure enough, the shuttle spun around to face him.

“Come and get me, you cowardly asshole,” snarled Cad, switching to regular aiming and firing another volley of bullets at the shuttle, charging for cover across the opposite side of the street.

The buzz of the shuttle’s autocannon split the air, and plumes of dusty soil traced the path of the cannon rounds as they cut through the road toward Cad. He felt a punch to his thigh and was spun around three hundred and sixty degrees in mid-air, but he was carrying enough momentum to land behind cover. The Group-X shuttle continued its attack, strafing the area where Cad had snuck out of its line of fire. The fierce torrent of cannon rounds obliterated the stone wall as if it were built from nothing more than dried sand. Cad scrambled deeper into cover as the corner of the building began to collapse. His right leg felt stiff, and glancing down at it, he saw that the armor had taken a hit. The projectile had penetrated through the iridescent black plating, but it hadn’t pierced his skin. Cad pulled it out like a rotten tooth and tossed it into the dust.

“That’s your one lucky shot, Xander Blade,” he snarled, picturing the mercenary’s pretty-boy face in his mind. His hand closed around the grip of his sword as the image of the man crystallized. “You won’t get another…”

A renewed buzz from the shuttle’s autocannon encouraged Cad to move again. Employing the full range of power assistance from his armor, he ran hard along the rear of the row of buildings. The shuttle then stopped firing and rapidly gained altitude in order to get a bird’s-eye view of the town. Seconds later, cannon rounds were slamming into the stone buildings and dusty roads of Sandown, some missing Cad by mere inches.

Cad burst through the back door of a restaurant building in order to escape the maelstrom of twenty-millimeter rounds, using his armored body as a battering ram. He charged through into the kitchen area as the rounds chased him inside, and ducked down out of sight. Cad then caught the eyes of the petrified business owner, huddled behind a metal worktop before he spotted the faces of two young children that were with him. Rounds continued to burst through the walls and windows of the building, and Cad rushed forward, shoving a heavy industrial cooker in front of the bystanders. He took another hit as he did so, this time to his shoulder, before also ducking down behind the massive steel appliance.

“Stay here!” Cad yelled, his voice likely sounding alien and terrifying through the vocal systems of his mask. The restaurant owner nodded anxiously, hunkering down into the space and shielding the heads of his children as cannon rounds peppered the walls behind him. Cad pulled the cannon round out of his shoulder armor and glowered out toward where the shuttle was still hovering, punishing the building with all the finesse of a blunderbuss. Rage burned inside his veins. He had no qualms about killing and had taken more lives than he cared to count. But whereas Cad Rikkard was a scalpel, Xander Blade was a sledgehammer. Collateral damage was the sign of a poor craftsman, though this he already knew about Xander Blade. A lack of flair he could tolerate, but killing bystanders in order to hit your target was more than mere sloppiness; it was nothing more than an act of mindless destruction. Cad didn’t care about the people cowering beneath his shimmering black armor, but he did care about the honor of his profession. And it was a profession that Xander Blade was in the act of disgracing.

“Cad, I’m ready,” said Draga through the comm system in Cad’s helmet. “I can see your location. Draw Group-X out into the main street.”

Cad acknowledged Draga’s message and burst through the kitchen door into the main restaurant, diving through the glass window and into the high street. He rolled through the landing and flipped back to his feet with the precision of a gymnast, then spun around and fired at the shuttle in one seamless maneuver. The bullets from his rifle merely added more chips to the hardened cockpit glass, but once again, it had gotten their attention. Glancing to his left, Cad saw a row of heavy-duty utility vehicles, parked up by the side of an office belonging to one of the many Minervan mining companies. He sprinted toward them and took cover behind the last of the three vehicles, as the Group-X shuttle swept over the restaurant building and hovered in the middle of the main road.

“All yours, Draga,” said Cad as the first utility vehicle in the line was peppered with rounds from the shuttle’s autocannon.

There was no response over the comm channel, but as was often the case, Draga answered with actions, instead of words. A missile streaked down the street and detonated on impact with the shuttle’s engines. The explosion blew out the windows of nearby buildings and sent the shuttle spinning out of control, black smoke pouring from its aft quarter. The shuttle crashed into the road, spewing up a thick plume of dust and soil before grinding to a halt less than twenty meters from where Cad lay in wait.

Through the crackling fires, Cad saw Draga Vex emerge from a side-street further down the road, tossing a single-use missile launcher into the dirt. Cad smiled and stepped out from behind the utility vehicle, and together they marched on the stricken shuttle as flames began to engulf it. Gunfire erupted from inside the shuttle’s cabin, shooting out the cockpit class, and a second later, the emergency escape hatch popped open. Dazed members of Group-X pulled themselves from the wreckage, but they were all nameless nobodies to Cad. There was only one man he was looking for.

“Xander Blade is mine,” said Cad into the comm channel. “You can kill all the rest.”

3

Two Group-X mercenaries staggered away from the burning combat shuttle, coughing and rubbing smoke from their streaming eyes. Cad marched toward them, his pace methodical and unhurried. He intended to give Group-X a lesson in the proper way to kill.

With the smoke no longer blinding them, the two mercenaries finally spotted Cad approaching. They raised their weapons and fired, but both were too disorientated from the crash to aim with any accuracy, and the bullets flew wide. Cad grabbed the now scuffed and tarnished grip of his Black Prince sword and drew it slowly from its scabbard. Sunlight glinted off the blade, which was still stained with the blood of the bandits Cad had killed earlier. Those thugs had been dispatched far too easily, Cad recollected. In many ways, he was glad of the opportunity to wet the blade once more, in what he hoped would be a far more satisfying encounter.

Bullets pinged off Cad’s armor as the mercenaries regained some level of composure and accuracy with their weapons. However, while the Group-X sidearms were more powerful than those used by the local outlaws, they still lacked the punch to breach Cad’s cocoon. Cad continued his measured advance, shrugging off the rounds like hailstones, and soon the pistols clicked empty.

The first mercenary charged at Cad, managing to evade his sword thrust and land a kick to his side, but it was like kicking the trunk of a giant redwood. Cad adjusted his footing and drew the blade back along the man’s ribs, carving a deep furrow into his flesh. The mercenary grabbed his side, staring down in horror at the blood gushing from his body. It was the last thing the man saw before Cad thrust his blade through his neck, killing him instantly.

In the meantime, the second Group-X mercenary had drawn a machete. Cad was almost impressed that the man had not wet himself at the sight of his butchered comrade, but not enough to spare the Group-X mercenary from a similarly brutal fate. The mercenary came at Cad, swinging the machete as if attempting to hack his way through dense jungle undergrowth. Cad stepped back, parrying and dodging the strikes with ease as the blood of his first opponent spilled into the dusty soil, turning it a muddy red. Blocking a hard-downward strike with his armored forearm, Cad thrust the Black Prince through the mercenary’s gut, pushing the blade all the way through to the hilt. He savored the look of pain and surprise on the man’s face for a second or two. Then he lifted the Group-X mercenary into the air and hurled his punctured body onto the bonnet of a utility vehicle to his rear.

More rounds danced off Cad’s armor, but the gunshots were now mixed with the concussive boom of Draga’s semi-automatic shotgun. Through the acrid smoke billowing from the shuttle, Cad could see Draga unloading on at least three more Group-X mercenaries at point-blank range. Another bullet deflected off Cad’s armor, and finally, he spotted his attacker, hiding behind the cockpit, which was now partly buried into the road. Cad crouched then leapt into the air, using the power assistance from his suit to cover the remaining distance to the shuttle in a single, super-human bound. Cad raised the sword high as he descended toward the mercenary, noting the look of awe and terror on her face, then brought the blade down with all his might. The woman was cleaved in half, from collar to hip. It had been as effortless as slicing cheese, Cad mused, allowing himself a moment of vanity to admire the greatness of his own bloody work.

Cad released his hold on the Black Prince sword, which was now sunk into the road up to the middle of the blade, and peered inside the darkened cockpit. His vision enhancement system could still pick up a lone person inside, cringing behind the pilot’s seat like a coward.

“Get out here, Xander,” Cad shouted into the darkness of the cockpit. Other than the crackle of the fires and the crunch of Draga’s boots as she approached from around the side of the wreckage, the town was now utterly silent. “At least face your death with some dignity,” Cad added, daring the mercenary leader to step out and face him. Through his visor, Cad saw Xander Blade reach around the side of the seat, weapon in hand. He shook his head, though he wasn’t surprised by the man’s continued cowardice, and stepped aside. Shots rang out from inside the dark cockpit, but Cad had already moved and the bullets simply sailed harmlessly out into the sky.

“Shall I fetch him for you?” said Draga, stowing her shotgun on her back.

Cad sighed. He’d have preferred Xander Blade to accept his challenge and step out willingly, but as more gunshots either flew wide or embedded into the fractured hull of the shuttle, he realized that wasn’t going to happen.

“Try not to injure him too much,” said Cad, extending his hand toward the cockpit.

Draga waited for Xander’s weapon to click empty, then rushed inside the gloomy cockpit space. Muffled cries and the shuffles and scraping sounds of a struggle filtered out of the darkness. Then the flailing body of Xander Blade was unceremoniously launched out into the dirt at Cad’s feet. The leader of Group-X scrambled away from Cad and climbed to his knees, stretching a pleading hand out toward him.

“Look, Cad, it was just a contract,” Xander said in the same way that people sometimes exclaim, “It was only a joke!” when a prank goes badly wrong. Cad was at least impressed that the mercenary wasn’t yet blabbing or begging for his life, though he imagined it wouldn’t be long until this happened. “Come on, Cad, if there was a bounty on me, you’d collect it just the same, right? It’s business!”

Cad laughed under his breath then retracted his visor so that he could see his enemy through unfiltered eyes. Even after all this time, Xander Blade thought that Cad and he were the same. It was like a caterpillar comparing itself to a butterfly.

“Who put the contract out on me?” said Cad, while pulling the Black Prince sword out of the ground.

“Come on, Cad!” Xander cried, brushing sweat-soaked strands of his long, blonde hair out of his eyes. “You know I can’t tell you that. It’s the rules!”

Cad sighed again. “I could just have Draga pull out all your teeth, one by one, until you tell me.”

Xander looked genuinely affronted by this threat. “But we’re friends, right? This was just business.”

“Draga…” said Cad, glancing across to the female mercenary. Draga then advanced toward Xander with the calm and unemotional detachment of a warbot.

“Okay, okay, jeez man!” yelled Xander, scrambling away from Draga as if she were a giant scorpion, though he remained on his knees. “It was Doyle, okay?”

“Damien Doyle?” repeated Cad, feeling his hand tighten around the grip of his sword. “Damien Doyle hired you to take me out?”

“Yeah, I know, right?” said Xander, shaking his head in a clumsy and obvious attempt to create empathy between them. “I always thought you two were tight. But the money, man. Five mil, straight up. I couldn’t say no to that, right?”

Doyle… Cad thought, picturing the wiry old tycoon in his mind. He looked at Draga, who had also now retracted her visor, and her dark eyes told the same story. That old bastard has to die…

Cad was then distracted by the sun glinting off the machete that Xander’s Group-X comrade had dropped. It was lying part-buried in the dusty road where it had fallen. Cad kicked the weapon toward the mercenary, who frowned at it as it bounced across the road and landed in front of his knees.

“Here, at least go down fighting,” said Cad, pointing to the weapon with the tip of his sword.

Xander laughed, almost maniacally, and held his hands out wide. “Come on, buddy, you can’t expect me to face you with that?” he said, looking at the machete in disgust.

“No, I expect you’re too much of a coward to face me at all,” replied Cad.

This comment seemed to irk Xander, and his whole posture became rigid. “At least remove your armor. Give me a fighting chance…” he said, dropping the buddy-buddy pretense.

Cad stepped up in front of Xander and stabbed the Black Prince sword into the ground between them. He then picked up the machete and stepped away, the Group-X leader’s curious eyes watching him all the way. Tossing the machete into the dirt in front of him, Cad then dropped to his knees and opened his arms out wide.

“Here I am…” said Cad with his arms still extended out to his side. “Here is your fighting chance. I am unarmed, and I will allow you the first move.”

Xander laughed again, the noise even more crazed than before, but then the mercenary fell silent, realizing that Cad was serious. Xander Blade’s gaze flicked to Draga, who gave them space, though without taking her eyes off him, then to Cad again, who remained motionless, arms out wide.

“You’re one crazy SOB, do you know that?” said Xander, though Cad remained silent and simply stared in to Xander’s eyes, waiting for him to act.

Xander snorted and shook his head, but then sprang up and grabbed the Black Prince sword, displaying exceptional speed and agility. He’d pulled the weapon from the ground and raised it to strike in a near instant, yet in that time, Cad had taken the machete and sunk it into Xander’s heart. The Black Prince sword fell from Xander’s hands and Cad caught it before rising to his feet and pushing the mercenary to his knees. Guttural croaks escaped Xander’s lips, along with a trickle of blood. Cad held his startled eyes for a second longer, savoring the moment before swinging the Black Prince sword and removing Xander’s head cleanly from his shoulders.

The severed head hit the dirt and rolled away as Cad let out a relaxed sigh. It felt like he’d just taken the first long gulp of an ice-cold beer on a scorching hot summer’s day. He wiped the blade on Xander’s pants then knelt beside the mercenary’s headless body. Rifling through his coat, Cad found a bag of gold coins – the preferred currency of outer bridge world crooks and dealers. Standing again, Cad glanced across to the restaurant building that he’d crashed through earlier and saw the owner, anxiously peering out through the smashed glass window.

“Come on, I think we’re done here,” Cad said to Draga, setting off down the street toward where they’d parked their all-terrain vehicle. Draga followed wordlessly as both left the burning wreckage and broken bodies of Group-X behind. Detouring past the shot-up restaurant, Cad met the eyes of the restaurant owner, still shielding his two frightened, but now also perversely curious kids. He tossed the man the bag of gold coins, which the restaurant owner almost dropped before finally managing to clutch the heavy purse to his chest. The man looked up and was about to speak, but Cad Rikkard and Draga Vex had already turned away along the long dusty road, and neither looked back.

4

Hallam’s head snapped back as the gloved left hand of Dakota Wulfrun smacked into his jaw. He’d only let his concentration slip for a moment, but it had been all the opening the spirited leader of the Wolf Squadron needed.

“How did that taste?” said Dakota, dancing back and grinning at him.

“It tasted like a cheap shot…” replied Hallam, wiping his mouth on his vest. The boxing gloves that both of them were wearing were certainly well-seasoned, and combined with the sweat that Dakota had already slapped off his face and body from earlier blows, Hallam conceded that her punch had tasted pretty horrible.

Dakota danced toward him again, snapping out a quick one-two, which Hallam blocked easily now that he was paying attention again. Then he dodged out of her range to slow down the pace of the match, which Dakota was winning.

“Perhaps you should pay more attention to your opponent,” Dakota said as Hallam snapped out a couple of jabs of his own. “Where were you just then anyway?” Dakota was wisely circling around to Hallam’s left, wary of eating a blow from his favored right hand.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Hallam as he caught Dakota with a right cross and hook to the body. “Perhaps I was just thinking about how the galaxy’s toughest mercenaries are trying to kill us?” he added, while swaying out of range of a swinging right cross. “And, maybe, that we’re about to attempt a raid on a secret installation on a hidden planet that’s probably teeming with Consortium heavies who also want to kill us?”

Dakota ducked under Hallam’s lazier counter-punch and thumped two solid shots to his body. Hallam groaned, but Dakota didn’t let up, landing another shot to his jaw as Hallam’s hands dropped low. “Less talking, more boxing,” said Dakota, again with a wicked smile.

Hallam wiped the stale taste of new and old sweat from his mouth. Dakota’s idea of sparring was akin to all-out war. “Can you clean those damn gloves, or maybe get a new pair?” he complained as Dakota continued to dance around the ring, clearly growing in confidence. “They taste like week-old socks.”

“How do you know what week-old socks taste like, weirdo?” Dakota hit back, resorting to name-calling in order to rile Hallam. It was an obvious tactic, but one she employed because it worked. “Besides, I have a better idea,” Dakota continued, snapping another couple of jabs out and backing Hallam toward the corner.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” said Hallam, allowing Dakota to advance. She had gone beyond being merely confident and was now bordering on cocky, which was playing right into Hallam’s hands.

“Stop getting punched in the face…” Dakota answered, lunging forward with a right cross. However, Hallam had anticipated her attack and dodged out of the way, shoving Dakota into the corner and pinning her there with a combo and fast punches to the head and body. The two continued to trade blows for a few more seconds before Dakota went into a clinch, wrapping her arms around Hallam’s so that he could no longer punch.

Just at that moment, the door to the musky, makeshift gym on the renegade hideout opened, and Dr. Shelby Rand walked in. She was closely followed by Ruby Rivas, the second member of the Wolf Squadron.

“This seems somehow familiar,” said Dr. Rand as Hallam and Dakota hastily separated, making their encounter look more suspect than it actually was.

“We were just sparring,” said Hallam in a way that seemed to imply they had actually been doing something else entirely.

“I see…” said Dr. Rand, stepping further into the room.

Ruby followed, blowing a bright yellow bubble of gum as she did so. “You two should probably put a sign on the door next time,” Ruby chimed in, clearly enjoying having caught Hallam and Dakota in the combative embrace. “You know, so that no one walks in and witnesses anything… unexpected.” Ruby’s yellow bubble burst and she licked the gum back into her mouth. The sharp sound was equivalent to a mic-drop.

Hallam felt it best not to say anything in response to Ruby’s veiled insinuation, for fear he’d just dig himself further into a hole. When he glanced at Dakota, she appeared to be thinking the same since she had also stayed unusually quiet.

“Have you located the position of the rogue world?” Dakota said to Dr. Rand, finally speaking up and also hastily changing the subject.

“I have,” replied Dr. Rand plainly. “Assuming you are both available to discuss the plan?”

“Or we could come back,” Ruby chipped in, grinning like a loon. “In case you two would like a few more minutes to finish your ‘sparring’ session?” Ruby sniggered like a teenager hearing a smutty joke. She then began blowing out another bubble, while eagerly awaiting Hallam’s response.

“No, now is just fine,” said Hallam, tearing off his gloves and hurriedly making his way under the bottom rope of the ring.

The data that Hallam and Dakota had stolen from Damien Doyle’s data bunker on Fortuna had proven to be a goldmine of vital information. It had contained detailed data about the mysterious, secret Consortium planet and its top-secret facility, where Damien Doyle had stored his most precious alien artefacts. Unfortunately, the one crucial piece of information that was missing from the data was the rogue world’s galactic co-ordinates. All they knew was that the planet was reachable via a bridge from Vesta. However, there was no record – official or otherwise – of ships entering bridge space from the vicinity of Vesta, other than to travel the known routes to Orcus and Feronia.

Dakota had also pulled off her gloves then jogged ahead to catch up with Dr. Rand. She appeared eager to put as much distance between herself and Hallam as possible, to dispel any notion that their sparring match was something more intimate. Ruby, however, had hung back waiting for Hallam. She fixed him with an “I know your dirty secret” look, complete with matching eyebrow waggle.

“We were just sparring…” insisted Hallam again as he walked past her, trying to appear casual.

Ruby’s bubble popped, then she shrugged sassily and said, “Sure, stud…”

The briefing room was occupied by Commander Castell, looking as stoical as ever. Dr. Rand and Dakota had made it inside by the time Hallam took up his position around the circular table in the center of the room. Ruby Rivas also strolled inside then closed the door and winked at Hallam. As soon as the door clicked shut, Commander Castell tapped a series of commands into his console, dimming the lights and activating a holo projection of a planet, emanating from the center of the table.

Hallam felt a shiver run down his spine as he examined the unfamiliar planet. It was a dark, ominous-looking world that seemed to be covered in a near perpetual blanket of storm clouds and lightning. Frequent thunderstorms were popping off throughout the dense atmosphere, the likes of which even Thor himself would have been proud of.

“This is the rogue world that Damien Doyle has managed to keep hidden for what we believe could be more than two decades,” said Castell, forgoing any pleasantries and getting straight to business. Castell was well known for his lack of people skills, and his dislike of formalities and any sort of idle chit-chat. However, he was never intentionally rude, so most people forgave his lack of social graces. The commander tapped his console again and the holo image zoomed out to show the connecting bridge to Vesta, Damien Doyle’s other private planet.

“Where are you getting this data?” asked Hallam, noting the vast distance between the two worlds. “I thought we had no idea where this bridge was.”

Castell moved the display on and Hallam saw a small planetary shuttle start to head out from Vesta.

“Dr. Rand was able to tap in to the surveillance satellite feed from Vesta, so that we could monitor space ship traffic,” Castell went on. “And it seems that we got lucky.” The commander then gave way to Dr. Rand to continue the briefing.

“We spotted this small shuttle leaving the orbit of Vesta and appearing to head for the Vestan moon,” said Dr. Rand, thrusting her hand into the holo display to highlight the ship. “At first, it seemed to be just a normal ferry run to the mining operation on the moon’s dark side, returning some hours later.” The scientist advanced the holo again. “However, thanks to our hacked surveillance feed, we detected that the ship returning to Vesta was not the same one that had arrived at the moon.”

Hallam scowled. “That doesn’t seem like much to go on,” he said, wondering what was so startling about this revelation. “I mean, they must use more than one shuttle, right?”

“That was also my first thought, Mr. Knight,” replied Dr. Rand. “However, I then realized a crucial difference between the two shuttles. The one departing Vesta had a Shelby Drive signature, while the one returning to the planet did not.”

This time, it was Dakota that frowned. “Why would an interplanetary shuttle have a Shelby Drive in the first place?” she asked. “If it was just a short range-shuttle, then it wouldn’t need one, and those things are far too rare and valuable to sit unused.”

Hallam clicked his fingers in a sudden Eureka moment. “The shuttle run is just a cover,” he said excitedly. “The first shuttle was never heading to the moon. It was just made to look like it was.”

“Correct, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand, smiling. Hallam couldn’t help but feel a swell of pride. It was like he’d received a gold star from his teacher. “We scanned for the drive signature and discovered our errant shuttle sneaking off toward the asteroid belt,” Dr. Rand continued, oblivious to Hallam’s sudden sense of accomplishment.

“So Doyle built the bridge entrance in the asteroid field, where no one would think to go looking,” said Hallam. It was all starting to make sense to him now.

Ruby snorted a laugh. “You’ve got to hand it to that rich old goat, he’s a clever one,” she said before instigating another bubble.

“Since the shuttle would take three days to reach the asteroid field using standard propulsion, we were able to bridge a scout ship out there, before it arrived,” Dr. Rand continued, advancing the holo presentation on further. “The scout was able to remain undetected and follow the shuttle onto the bridge, giving it a suitable head-start, of course. Once it had returned to base, I was able to calculate the location of the rogue star system, based on the data from its Shelby Drive.”

The holo then zoomed in on the rogue world at a dizzying speed before finally settling on a building complex on the surface. Hallam leant in toward the image and studied the complex with attentive but also apprehensive eyes. It appeared to have been constructed from standard outpost blocks. Hallam knew of these temporary structures. They were essentially the planetary-colonization equivalent of portable office cabins, except many times the size, and transported by huge super freighters, rather than trucks. The complex was comprised of eight main sectors, each built from four or six outpost blocks. Each sector was connected by corridors, some of which had smaller sub-blocks leading off from them.

Hallam had seen similar planetary installations before, mainly on the more virgin outer bridge worlds. Once the permanent structures in the towns had been established, the outpost blocks were usually dismantled and recycled. However, sometimes they were turned into habitats, refueling stops, and even retail complexes or casinos. However, more often than not, they were transformed into establishments selling vice or other similar dens of iniquity. Like the rogue world itself, the outpost blocks weren’t especially hospitable, but the flipside to their intentionally temporary nature meant they were also relatively easy to break into.

“So what’s the catch, Doc?” said Hallam, standing back and looking at Dr. Rand, whose expression gave nothing away. So far, the scientist hadn’t highlighted any problems, which meant she was saving all the bad news till last. “It shouldn’t be hard to get inside a complex like that, so I’m guessing it must be guarded by a dozen Theta-class warbots, or that the planet is crawling with flesh-eating, giant spiders, or something like that, right?”

“Something like that, yes,” replied Dr. Rand, tapping her console again. Then the scientist noticed that Hallam’s face had turned white, and clarified her statement. “Apart from the flesh-eating spiders, of course. There are none of those.”

Hallam blew out an exaggerated sigh. “Well that one piece of good news, at least!” he said, adding a nervous laugh, though no one else appeared to be amused.

“Not that we know of anyway…” Dr. Rand then added, which elicited a loud snort-laugh from Ruby before the scientist continued her briefing. “While we believe that the complex has a skeleton staff of enforcers, there is a sensor barrier extending for two kilometers around the installation. Trip this and any one of a dozen autocannon emplacements on the facility will bear down on your position within seconds.”

Hallam shook his head. “Do you actually have any good news, Doc?”

Dr. Rand thought for a moment then replied, “The lack of flesh-eating giant spiders is good news, I think?” she offered. Then she paused and gave a noncommittal shrug, adding, “Though I am not promising there aren’t any.”

Commander Castell coughed politely to break the silence that followed Dr. Rand’s unintentionally darkly humorous reply, and quickly moved the briefing on.

“We’ve retrofitted a small two-person ATV with sensor stealthing technology,” he said, highlighting the vehicle on the holo. “The plan is to land a single fighter well beyond the installation’s sensor perimeter, coming in low over the terrain to avoid the regular air-traffic sensors.” The holo updated again, showing the route Castell proposed. “A team of two will then safely pass through the sensor barrier in the ATV, cut into the complex through an outpost block in Sector A2, then retrieve the alien probe technology.” Castell entered another short sequence of commands and a holo-rendering of a large, casket-sized container appeared. The casket opened and an object floated out from inside it. Hallam had never seen anything like it before, though it was clear even to him that the device was not of earthly origins.

“This is the alien probe I discovered thirty-six years ago,” Dr. Rand said. She then reached into the display and enlarged the rendering of the probe at a specific location. “The component I need is inside this section,” the scientist continued. The image of the probe exploded and the component Dr. Rand needed flew out toward them. It looked like an enormous AA-cell battery, Hallam mused as he studied the object. “Remember, due to his radioresistant biology, only Mr. Knight can retrieve this component,” the scientist added with a sufficiently foreboding tone of voice. Dr. Rand then looked at Dakota directly. “Anyone else must stay outside of Sector A2 while the component is retrieved. I will supply a shielded case in which to store it.”

Hallam shifted uncomfortably on the spot. “Are you sure I can withstand the radiation, Doc?” he asked. He’d forgotten the part about being exposed to a high dose of Randenite radiation.

“I suggest you limit your exposure to ten seconds or less,” said Dr. Rand matter-of-factly.

“Ten seconds?” said Hallam, raising a skeptical eyebrow at the scientist. “Doc, it sometimes takes me that long to unbuckle my damn flight harness.”

“I have previously extracted and worked on this component, so it will be simple to remove,” replied Dr. Rand, untroubled by Hallam’s protest. “Ten seconds should be more than enough time, Mr. Knight.”

Hallam blew out a rasping sigh. “I hope you’re right…”

Castell picked up the briefing again. “Once the raiding party has secured the component in the shielded case, you are to depart by the same route,” he said, returning the holo projection to the bird’s eye view of the complex.

“Whilst avoiding the flesh-eating spiders, of course…” Ruby added, with a twisted grin.

“Can everyone stop talking about flesh-eating spiders!” Hallam snapped. He was now unable to think about anything else.

“You brought it up,” said Dakota, also smirking.

The loud pop of Ruby’s gum bubble bursting drew the room’s attention back to her. “So the billion-dollar question is, which one of you two dummies gets to come with me on this insane mission that has a high probability of death?” she said, looking at Hallam then Dakota.

“No offense, Ruby, but stealth isn’t really your style,” said Dakota, trying to be as diplomatic as possible. “Nor, to be honest, is not blowing things up. And we need to retrieve the probe component from the complex intact.”

Ruby blew another bubble while watching Dakota over the top of it with narrowed eyes. She then turned her attention to Hallam. The tension in the room was growing as steadily as the gum bubble was. The bubble then popped and, much to Hallam’s surprise, the tension dissipated with it.

“Okay, so tanker man goes with the boss on this one,” said Ruby before folding her arms. “But I’m gonna be in my cockpit, fueled up and ready to haul your asses out of there if this goes belly up.” Ruby chewed her gum noisily for a couple more seconds before adding, “Again…”

“I’d expect nothing less,” said Dr. Rand, glancing across to Dakota, who nodded her approval.

“Fine with me, though I do have one last question,” said Hallam, addressing Dr. Rand.

“Go on, Mr. Knight,” said the scientist, raising a curious eyebrow.

“Can we be absolutely sure that this damn planet doesn’t have any flesh-eating spiders?” said Hallam. It wasn’t meant as a joke, however, Dr. Rand merely rolled her eyes at him then left the briefing room without saying another word.

5

The journey to reach Damien Doyle’s rogue world had been uneventful but tense. Even as they approached the foreboding planet, with its constant lightning storms, Hallam couldn’t shake the feeling that something dark lurked beneath the impenetrable cloud cover. His sense of trepidation hadn’t been improved by their hair-raising atmospheric entry. The ship had been buffeted so hard, Hallam felt like it would fall apart. He’d even resorted to patting Bob the bear on the head and asking the little wooly mascot to bring them luck. Normally, this would have amused Dakota, but on this occasion, all her attention was focused on ensuring they didn’t crash. There simply wasn’t time to poke fun at Hallam.

Once they had reached ground level, Dakota had cautiously maneuvered her renegade fighter through the dense tree canopy of the swampland region they had chosen for their landing site. It was about a kilometer outside the sensor perimeter of the secret Consortium complex, which was closer than Hallam had expected them to get. However, despite the challenges, Dakota’s piloting had been exceptional, and he was glad she was in the number one chair instead of him. The flight out to their not-so picturesque landing spot had required Dakota to hug the planet’s surface at dangerously low levels, while avoiding the jagged, rocky hills and mountains that protruded from the surface like cracked dragon teeth. On top of the constant driving rain and electrical storms, it had been a spine-tingling experience, only made worse by Dakota’s choice of an evil-looking swamp as their landing spot.

Dakota set the vessel down and shut off the vertical thrusters, causing the landing struts to partially sink into the sodden ground. Hallam had a strange sensation of falling over as the fighter lolled to one side, sinking unevenly into the bog they’d landed in. However, all told, given the traumatic nature of the journey, he was very glad to be on any kind of mostly solid ground again.

“Congratulations, Dak, I think you’ve discovered hell,” said Hallam as the ship continued to creak and groan, sinking a little more each second.

“Isn’t hell supposed to be all fire and brimstone?” Dakota replied, shutting down the main engines. She’d already initiated a full, shielded shut-down of the Shelby Drive after arriving in the secret star system, so as not to give off a tell-tale bridge drive signature. “This place is more rain and mud.”

Hallam unfastened his harness and peered up at the driving rain, which was still hammering down on the cockpit glass, despite their partially-sheltered swampland setting. Flashes lit up the sky, visible through the canopy of drooping branches and long-flat leaves that looked like wizened witches’ fingers. The flashes were closely followed by the raucous boom of thunder as the storm began to catch up with them. “I think they got it wrong. I’d take fire and brimstone over this desolate, miserable place any day.”

Dakota lowered the cargo pod that had been attached to the fighter’s underbelly in the renegade hideout and waited for it to squelch into the mire. “I’m more concerned that our little all-terrain vehicle won’t be able to handle this boggy landscape and just sink into a muddy oblivion,” said Dakota, spinning her seat around to face Hallam.

“You mean like we are now?” replied Hallam as the fighter slowly lolled to the other side, causing him to lose his balance again. “I just hope there’s still a ship here when we get back.”

Hallam followed Dakota into the rear section of the fighter to prepare their gear. Dakota quickly grabbed a coat and tossed it into Hallam’s face. “Just put this on and stop moaning, will you?” she said, pulling on a similar garment. “The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can leave.”

Hallam dragged the coat off his face and slipped it on as more bright flashes lit up the darkness surrounding them, followed almost instantly by another sonorous rumble of thunder.

“Trust Doyle to hide his super-secret base on the most oppressive, and intensely dislikable planet in the galaxy,” said Hallam, sliding on his backpack and clipping it securely across his chest. “I wonder what other dark secrets he’s hiding away?”

Dakota sighed, pressing her hands to her hips. “You know, I could easily murder you out here and leave you to sink into the mud instead of the ship,” she said as Hallam continued to grumble. “No one would ever know…”

“You’d miss my scintillating company, admit it,” said Hallam, pulling up the hood of the coat and opening the lower hatch. A biting, icy wind swept inside and Hallam shuddered, as much from revulsion as from the chill the wind had sent down his spine. “Did I mention that I hate being wet and cold?” Hallam added, climbing down the ladder.

“You might have hinted at it a few times…” said Dakota sarcastically.

Hallam’s boots squelched into the mud, though the terrain felt more solid than he was expecting, and shuffled out from underneath the ship. The belly of the large, two-man fighter was at least half a meter lower to the ground than it would usually have been, due to the partially-sunken landing struts. Dakota climbed down next, while thunder and lightning continued to crackle and rumble all around them. The thick cloud cover meant that the planet was cloaked in a perpetual gloom, but with the tree canopy blocking what little light the system’s sun could provide, it was darker than midnight in the swamp.

Dakota set to work on the ATV, while Hallam stowed his gear in the rear compartment. Rain continued to belt down so hard that it felt like his hood was a copper cooking pot that an amateur drummer was using to practice on. Hallam finished stowing his gear and looked up at the long branches swaying in the wind before drawing his gaze back to ground level. Then his heart leapt in his chest as a shadowy shape appeared to creep past in the darkness.

“Did you see that?” said Hallam, squinting through the gloom, but the shape – if it had been a shape – had gone.

“I’m not falling for that, Hal,” said Dakota drolly. “You’re going to need to try harder.”

Hallam scowled at Dakota – their constant pranking of each other had meant that both were always skeptical and on their guard. He returned his gaze back into the darkness, trying to confirm his sighting and convince Dakota that he wasn’t playing the fool. However, he saw nothing but the chaotic swirl of the wind, toying with long grasses and dead leaves.

The whine of the ATV’s motor activating turned Hallam’s attention back toward his partner. Dakota was now inside the small buggy and had pulled on a helmet with a tactical visor drawn down over her eyes. The vehicle rolled out from underneath the fighter, its wide, fat tires coping well with the sticky ground, and pulled up next to Hallam.

“Take the wheel while I get the cutting gear ready,” said Dakota, tossing a second helmet at him, then shuffling into the passenger seat. “And don’t forget to activate Dr. Rand’s stealth tech.”

Hallam pushed his hood back, exposing his face to the full force of the inclement weather, and slipped the helmet on before jumping behind the wheel. He flipped a switch to enable Dr. Rand’s stealth field then adjusted his visor settings to enhance his view ahead. Suddenly, he saw something dart away into the undergrowth and sink into the swamp water.

“You must have seen it that time!” cried Hallam, pointing into the darkness.

“I told you, I’m not falling for it,” said Dakota dryly.

“I’m serious, Dak, there’s something out there,” insisted Hallam while continually adjusting his visor settings in order to get a cleaner view. However, the charged atmosphere and driving rain was fogging up the image.

“It’s just your imagination, Hal” said Dakota dismissively as she continued working to assemble the cutting gear. The tool would be needed to slice through the metal body of the outpost blocks, allowing them to enter and escape unseen. “Either that or it’s just your dumb idea of a joke…”

Hallam frowned and sat back in the seat. Once again, the shape had gone. Maybe it is just my imagination… he conceded. Everything about the planet gave him the creeps, so it stood to reason that he’d see monsters and ghouls in every dark corner.

Hallam edged the ATV forward, still keeping a wary eye on the murkier corners of the swampland. The swamp extended almost to the edge of the sensor perimeter that Doyle had set up around his secret installation. Within that two-kilometer radius, the trees had been largely cleared out, but the undulating rocky terrain and long trenches filled with foul smelling bog-water still remained. As such, there was ample cover to conceal their approach, especially under the veil of the planet’s near perpetual darkness. Hallam also trusted that Rand’s stealth tech would hide them from any sensors. However, if a Consortium heavy inside the complex decided to look out across the terrain at just the right moment, there was no way to hide from the most basic of sensor devices – the good old mark one eyeball.

Hallam pushed the ATV on, weaving a chaotic path through the swamp until they were almost at the perimeter. Taking his eyes off the swampy road for a second, he dimmed all the instrument panels in the ATV and made sure that any external lights were also disabled.

“Hal!”

Hallam’s head snapped back to the trail ahead and saw that something had blocked their path. He slammed on the brakes and sharply veered away, but he merely succeeded in pushing the ATV into a sideways slide toward the obstacle. The vehicle’s thick tires finally dug deep enough into the mud to counteract their momentum and they ground to a stop five meters from the obstacle. However, it merely appeared to be an indistinct black blob. Then there was a low, guttural growl, clearly different from the constant rumble of thunder, and the object inched forward. It caught a narrow beam of light that had managed to pierce the dense canopy overhead, which was enough to highlight two shimmering eyes and a drooling jaw filled with crooked teeth.

“Do you believe me now?” said Hallam, keeping his eyes fixed on the creature. He knew that it wasn’t the time for an “I told you so” comment, but he couldn’t help himself.

“Just don’t move…” said Dakota, her eyes also locked on to the six-foot reptilian-like creature, which continued to move past them.

“I wasn’t really planning to…” snapped Hallam, again marveling at Dakota’s mastery of stating the obvious.

The creature was covered in thick, mottled skin that looked like scales. It stood on two thick, stumpy rear legs, and had long, claw-tipped arms. Hallam thought it would have looked at home in a dinosaur museum, were it not for the fact this creature was most certainly not a fossil. Continuing to watch the beast closely, Hallam then slowly slid his weapon out of his holster.

“I’m not sure that shooting it is a great idea, Hal!” said Dakota as Hallam clicked off the safety.

“Would you prefer I let it eat us?” replied Hallam stiffly. Both were talking like bad ventriloquists, attempting to speak without moving their lips.

The creature let out another low growl, then edged closer toward the driver’s side of the ATV. Hallam felt his pulse race higher and he rested the barrel of his pistol across his left arm, ready to shoot if the creature got too close.

Thunderclaps chorused with the creature’s guttural growls, as one of its long, claw-tipped arms landed on the bonnet of the ATV, scraping a groove into the metal. It sounded like someone drawing their fingernails across a blackboard, except ten times louder and more painful to listen to. Hallam slid his finger onto the trigger and aimed at the creature’s head, but its eyes were not looking into his own.

“I take it back! Shoot it!” said Dakota with hushed urgency as the creature moved closer. Hallam could now see its thick skin in far more detail. It was comprised of hundreds of armor plates that moved and flexed as the creature did. He added pressure to the trigger but still held off, as the beast appeared to take no further interest in the vehicle.

“Hal, what the hell!” Dakota cried, her voice subdued but no less fearful.

Then the creature turned and dropped into the swamp water to the side of the ATV. Within seconds, it had disappeared into the thick cover of undergrowth, leaving only an undulating wave of murky bog-water behind to show that it had been there at all.

Hallam blew out a long breath and let the weapon drop to his lap. “That was far too close for comfort,” he said, keeping half an eye on the swamp.

“I take it back, this place is worse than hell,” said Dakota, her head pressed back and eyes closed, rainwater hammering onto the visor that covered her face.

“After we snatch this probe component, the last one back to the ship buys the drinks, agreed?” said Hallam, grabbing the wheel and slowly driving on.

“You’re on, but there’s not a chance in this hell or any other hell that I’m losing that bet,” said Dakota without even the faintest flicker of a smile.

They continued the rest of the journey through the swamp in silence, until the ATV finally burst through the undergrowth and into the two-kilometer-wide no-man’s land that separated them from Damien Doyle’s secret complex.

6

Once they were inside the two-kilometer sensor perimeter surrounding the Consortium outpost, Hallam had found the terrain to be considerably easier to navigate. This was thanks to the lack of trees, dense undergrowth, and six-foot reptilian monsters. However, it also meant they were now fully exposed to the storm’s elemental might. Under the protection of the tree canopy, the rain had felt like a heavy summer downpour, but with that shield removed, it was now more akin to a tropical storm. However, the lack of autocannon emplacements targeting them, or lunatic Warbots advancing on their position, suggested that Dr. Rand’s sensor stealthing technology was working. As such, Hallam made solid progress toward the makeshift installation, which had been cobbled together from dozens of temporary outpost blocks.

Hallam slowed the ATV to a crawl as they closed to within three hundred meters of the complex. The terrain had gotten more difficult to navigate, and the level of cover for their ATV had also reduced, both of which had made it far more difficult to remain hidden.

“That place looks abandoned,” said Dakota as Hallam drove the ATV into a shallow gully, its wide tires cutting through several inches of murky grey-green bog water. “I don’t see any interior lights, or watchtowers, or any movement at all.”

Hallam stopped the ATV and peered out at the complex. It was raised up on six-foot-high stilts, which kept the outpost blocks from stewing in the vile swamp water that festered all around them.

“Maybe those creatures got inside and ate them all?” said Hallam, though he knew that this was more wishful thinking than a serious suggestion.

“What is it with you and flesh-eating monsters?” said Dakota, shooting Hallam a quizzical look.

“I just have a healthy aversion to being eaten, that’s all,” replied Hallam. “Or shot at, or chased after by some nutjob mercenary with a sword fetish for that matter. But yet here I am…”

Dakota let out a derisive snort, then a floodlight kicked into life on one of the complex’s outpost blocks and began probing the terrain.

“Crap, have they seen us?” said Hallam, frantically looking for a place where he could hide the ATV that was safe from the scrutiny of the penetrating beam of light.

“Don’t panic; they might just think we’re one of those swamp monster things,” said Dakota, somehow managing to maintain her optimism and her cool. “Over there, pull us into that deeper gully,” she added, almost stabbing her finger through the windshield. “They won’t be able to see us there. Then, with any luck, they’ll just call off their search as a false alarm.”

The searchlight began to scan back and forth across the landscape, sweeping in a narrow arc that was moving ever closer toward their location. Hallam pressed the accelerator, and the ATV bumped and buffeted over the uneven ground before surging into the gully that Dakota had indicated. Hallam engaged the parking brake and switched off the motor, but the ATV continued to slide into the gully, until it finally came to rest in a small lake of disgusting water at the base. Dakota then pulled on the pack containing the cutting gear and leapt out of the ATV and onto the muddy bank, drawing her sidearm as she did so.

“We’re blind down here, so let’s get a better view,” said Dakota, starting to climb up the sides of the gully.

Hallam’s boots hit the mud a few seconds later, and he followed Dakota, weapon in hand. The searchlight washed directly over their location, and Hallam ducked instinctively, despite still being hidden from its beam. The light then continued to sweep from side-to-side, until it stopped and seemed to concentrate on an area thirty meters from where they’d ditched.

“See, they must have seen something else,” said Dakota, leopard-crawling to Hallam’s side and lying next to him in the mud.

“That’s hardly a good thing, Dak,” replied Hallam, shaking his head at her. “If it’s not us, then I dread to think what else it might be.”

Both of them watched the complex for any more signs of activity. Then a rectangular strip of light shone out of the gloom as an external shutter rolled up on one of the outpost blocks. The shutter thudded to a stop, and a ramp whirred out, sliding deep into the mud. A few seconds later, three figures appeared, silhouetted by the intense artificial light behind them.

“Well, that answers the question about this place being abandoned or not,” said Dakota as the three figures started to head down the ramp. The shutter whirred shut behind them but didn’t close fully, leaving a thin strip of light bleeding out into the darkness.

“Nice of them to leave the door open for us,” said Dakota.

Hallam nodded. “If we can, we should try to sneak around those enforcers and squeeze in under the shutter,” said Hallam. “It would save us having to break in, which might end up triggering an alarm.”

“Good idea, but what if that patrol stumbles on the ATV?” Dakota replied. “If they spot it, then we’re royally screwed.”

“We could just make growling noises and try to scare them off,” quipped Hallam, though he was only half-joking.

The searchlight swung a few degrees further away from their location, and the three figures adjusted course to follow it. Away from the bright light of the complex, Hallam could now see them more clearly. All three were wearing the familiar combat armor common to CSF Enforcers – Doyle’s private army that were more commonly referred to as his “heavies.” However, each of the three enforcers appeared to have white shoulder pauldrons, which was something Hallam hadn’t seen before.

“These guys must be a unique branch of the enforcer division,” said Hallam. “Given the importance of this complex, it would be reasonable to assume they’re a rung above the average enforcer.”

Dakota peeked out and scowled at the three heavies, then ducked down again. “I’ve heard of an advanced squad called Crimson Lynx, though these guys are new to me. But you’re right, we should be prepared for them to be tougher to take down.”

The crackle of the enforcers’ radio system was now just about audible over the driving rain and rumbles of thunder. “Fan out; we could be dealing with two or three of those things,” a gruff male voice barked out to the others as the three heavies marched out into the darkness, rifles raised.

“I think that’s our cue to stop lying around in the mud, waiting to be eaten,” said Hallam, watching the heavies head deeper into the terrain. He tapped Dakota on the shoulder and pointed to another gully system, cutting through the no-man’s land toward the complex. “I think we can use that gully to reach the open door, while those grunts are out here searching for monsters.”

“Or flesh-eating spiders…” added Dakota with a grin.

“Did I ever tell you how hilariously funny you are, Dak?” said Hallam, laying the sarcasm on thickly. “Come on, I’ve had more than enough of this nightmare world already.”

Hallam took the lead, running through the water-soaked trench while regularly sneaking a look toward the three CSF heavies. The sudden crack of rifle fire caused them both to stop and press their bodies into the muddy bank. Hallam clawed himself to the summit and looked out as another ripple of gunfire reached them, barely audible over the hammering rain.

“Whatever they’re shooting at, at least it’s not us,” said Hallam, sliding back down the bank. “With any luck, those creatures will take one or two of them down. Either way, we need to hurry.”

Hallam and Dakota raced to the end of the long gulley, boots and every other part of their bodies now sodden from the rain. Gunfire continued to merge with the rumbling thunder and the barked orders from the gruff lead enforcer. Hallam darted out of the gulley and behind a cluster of razer-sharp rocks, then peered through the partially open shutter. He couldn’t see anyone inside, though the light was so intense, it was blinding compared to the gloom outside.

“Rhys, do you see them yet?” said a voice from beyond the shutter. Hallam’s eyes were adjusting, and he could make out one man inside, talking into a communicator.

“Negative. Ramon was just shooting at shadows again,” a gruff voice replied, sounding crackly and weak through the speaker. “I thought we moved these cannons so that the damn creatures couldn’t hide from them,” the heavy who’d been addressed as Rhys continued to grumble over the comm channel. “I’m sick of trudging out here in the mud and cold to kill these things.”

“Stop whining, will ya?” said the enforcer inside the outpost block. “I’d rather be here than polishing my boots and parading around as part of Doyle’s personal guard.” The heavy’s comment seemed to have resonated with his squad mates, as there was a ripple of laugher over the speaker. “Just find those creatures and kill them so you can get back,” the enforcer inside the outpost block went on. “The last thing we need is another one breaking into the store block and stealing our food. We don’t get resupplied for another month.”

Hallam turned back to Dakota and whispered, “There’s only one enforcer inside. I’m going to sneak under and take him down.”

“Can you even fit under there?” said Dakota doubtfully. “Maybe I should do it.”

Hallam scowled back at her. “I can fit,” he replied, taking the comment personally. “Just be ready to back me up.” Dakota raised an eyebrow but didn’t argue. “Okay, I’m going on three,” said Hallam, counting down in his head. He then moved out and crept up the ramp before pressing himself underneath the partially open shutter. About halfway through, his jacket snagged on the metal, and he was unable to move.

“There’s gotta be an easier way than this to stop these things from ripping into the food store,” the CSF enforcer inside grumbled, still unaware of Hallam flapping around like a fish on land.

“Dak, I’m stuck…” Hallam called back in a hushed voice, but there was no answer. And with his eyes adjusted to the light inside the complex, all he could see through the opening was a jet-black nothing.

“Who the hell are you?” the enforcer yelled.

Hallam peered up to see the barrel of a pistol pointing at his head. He froze, but then turned away, trying to shield his face. Remembering the name of the patrol heavies outside, he had a brainwave. “It’s me, Rhys!” barked Hallam, making his voice sound as gruff as possible. “Pull me out, I’m stuck!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Hallam saw the CSF enforcer frown, but then the man holstered his pistol and reached down, grabbing Hallam’s arm.

“Why the hell didn’t you radio for me to open the shutter, you moron,” the heavy said, struggling to gain purchase on Hallam’s wet and muddy clothes before finally managing to lug him inside. Hallam rolled out onto the floor, caked in mud and soaked through. Suddenly, the enforcer’s face fell as the heavy realized he’d been tricked.

“You’re not Rhys!” he snapped, drawing his weapon again and aiming it at Hallam’s chest. “You’re not even part of the CSF! What the hell?”

Hallam’s eyes flicked beyond the enforcer, spotting Dakota behind him. Evidently, she’d had no trouble slipping underneath the shutter. “No, and neither is she…” said Hallam, pointing behind the shocked enforcer.

The man turned and was immediately met with Dakota’s flying fist as she soared through the air and hammered the enforcer on the nose with a superman punch. The heavy fell like a wet plank and was knocked out cold.

Hallam pushed himself up and slapped off some of the mud that had congealed to his renegade armor. Then he noticed Dakota’s raised eyebrow and smart-ass expression.

“I told you so…” said Dakota, cracking a smile.

“Touché…” said Hallam, feeling more than a little stupid.

Dakota then dropped to her knee and began rifling through the pockets of the knocked-out CSF enforcer.

“Check on the others outside,” said Dakota as she stripped a keyfob from the man, along with his sidearm.

Hallam looked underneath the crack in the shutter door and peered out toward where the searchlight continued to shine into the darkness. The crack of rifle fire was still audible in the distance, but then his heart leapt as a rain-soaked heavy in full armor trudged into view.

“Hey! Who the hell are you!” yelled the enforcer, raising his rifle and aiming it through the crack in the shutter door.

7

Hallam threw himself away from the shutter door as the CSF heavy opened fire. Bullets thudded into the metal shutter and flew through the narrow opening, peppering the wall just above his head.

“We’re blown; we have to move out!” Hallam called over to Dakota. He then drew his pistol and fired back at the enforcer, driving the man into cover behind a cluster of rocks.

Dakota rushed to the door as another volley of rifle fire from the enforcer skipped off the deck. She slammed her palm against the door mechanism. The shutter rolled down and thudded into the deck.

“Dak, what are you doing? We have to get out, not trap ourselves in here!” cried Hallam, climbing to his feet. The wall behind him was pockmarked with bullet holes and he felt a cold shiver rush through him, realizing how close he’d come to being shot.

“We’re going to have to fight our way out, Hal,” said Dakota, inserting keycard after keycard into the lock mechanism until one finally worked, turning the door panel red. “Dr. Rand said there should only be a skeleton crew in this complex. With three enforcers already outside, and one out cold on the deck in here, we’ve got more chance of surviving inside the complex than we do out in the swamp.”

“Who the hell shut the door?”

Hallam spun around to see a CSF enforcer in standard working dress standing in the door that led into the rest of the complex. His wide eyes saw the drenched figures of Hallam and Dakota, followed by the enforcer on the deck, then he turned and ran.

“Crap!” said Hallam, setting off in pursuit, but the man was already at the far end of the corridor before he was even halfway along it. Hallam saw the man slap a panel on the wall, then swing a left into what Hallam believed was the command center, assuming the map Dr. Rand had given them was accurate. Alarms sounded inside the complex, droning in time with rows of flashing red lights that lined the corridor walls.

“What we need is in Sector A3, straight up from here,” cried Dakota, running up behind him. She and Hallam moved out of the corridor and into Sector D, which looked to be a storage area. It was stacked high with crates, most of which had the words “Bridge World 13: Top Secret” stamped on the side, along with a complex string of characters and letters. Gunfire snapped Hallam’s attention back to the adjoining corridors, and he and Dakota returned fire as two uniformed CSF enforcers advanced toward them.

“Hold them off while I try to find this alien component,” said Hallam, running in the direction of what he hoped was Sector A3.

Dakota dodged out of the line of fire and peered back into Hallam’s frantic eyes. “Wait, you’ll need me in there to protect you while you get the component,” said Dakota, flinching as bullets thudded into the metal crates inches from her head.

“You can’t; the radiation will kill you,” Hallam hit back, recollecting what Dr. Rand had told them about the hazardous nature of the artefact. “I’m radioresistant, remember? Only I can go in there.”

Dakota cursed and fired two blind shots along the corridor, then quickly reloaded. “Fine, but call me as soon as you have it secured in the shielded case. I don’t want you in there any longer than necessary.”

“I’ll be fine,” said Hallam, though in truth, he was less than convinced by Dr. Rand’s assertion he was protected from the effects of Randenite radiation. Then he had an idea. “Give me the cutting gear,” he said to Dakota. “I can use it to create an escape route while I’m searching for the probe component.”

Dakota nodded and removed her backpack, sliding it along the deck toward Hallam. More bullets thudded into crates behind Dakota, followed by urgent shouts and barked orders.

“Help me move one of these larger boxes up by the entrance to the corridor,” Dakota cried, getting behind one of the metal crates.

Hallam ran to help, and together they managed to heave the heavy container into a position where Dakota could use it for cover. The lid of the crate popped off as they gave it a final shove, and Hallam peered inside, curiosity getting the better of him. He then let out a long, low whistle, causing Dakota to take a break from shooting down the corridor to look inside too. The crate was filled with what looked like a dismantled warbot. However, the metal it was constructed from and the fluidity of the shapes used in the overall design didn’t correspond to anything Hallam had seen before. The craftsmanship was far superior to the cruder, clunkier warbots he’d seen, and the sheen of the armor was unlike any earthy metal. He’d only seen something remotely similar to it once before, in the armor worn by Cad Rikkard’s Blackfire Squadron. More gunfire thudded into the box, forcing them both to duck down into cover.

“You should hurry…” said Dakota as Hallam rolled out from behind the crate.

“Thanks, Captain Obvious,” Hallam called back, grabbing the bag of cutting gear and running for the door to Sector A3. “Just be ready to run like hell when I give you the signal,” he shouted back.

Hallam punched the door release button and raced into the corridor, but was immediately confronted with a CSF enforcer charging in the opposite direction. They both skidded to a stop and froze, eyes locked on to one another. Then the enforcer raised his weapon. Hallam reacted on pure instinct, aiming and firing in the blink of an eye. Two cracks rang out in the corridor, the noise painfully loud in the close confines the narrow space. Hallam flinched and pressed a hand to his chest, expecting to be hit, but when he looked down, there was no blood. The enforcer fell backward, slamming into the deck with a resounding thud. Hallam moved closer, covering the enforcer with his pistol and saw blood oozing from a wound to his chest. He looked into the man’s eyes, which stared back at him, glassy and still. Hallam sucked in a deep breath. If Bob the bear had been nearby, he would have probably kissed the lucky mascot’s woolen head. Instead, he knelt down beside the enforcer and pressed the man’s eyelids shut, then continued on to the far end of the corridor.

The door had been left open by the CSF enforcer he’d just killed, and Hallam quickly checked inside, finding that the coast was clear. Spotting the casket that Commander Castell had shown them all during the briefing, Hallam ran to it and dropped both backpacks onto the deck. Opening the cutting pack first, he removed the tool, clamped it to the deck a couple of meters to his side, and activated the machine. The cutting tool burst into life, spreading two laser-tipped metal arms out from its center. The arms began to spin, forming a meter-wide circle, while the powerful laser beams melted through the metal.

Tearing open the second backpack, Hallam removed the shielded storage box, placed it on the deck, and opened it. Shouts and rifle fire echoed along the corridor from where Dakota was holding off the remaining CSF heavies, each crack filling Hallam with dread. Dakota was a good shot, and she was far cooler-headed than Hallam was in these tense situations, but he knew she wouldn’t be able to hold them off for long.

Lifting the lid on the casket, Hallam was temporarily blinded as powerful strip lights switched on inside it. The probe was neatly nestled in the center, pressed into a foam surround and appearing exactly as Dr. Rand had shown in her briefing. The alien device was almost squid-like in appearance, and it gave off the same unearthly sheen as the dismantled alien warbot. Hallam tapped his fingers on the side of the container, racking his brains to remember where the component Dr. Rand needed was. All the while, he was conscious of the genius scientist’s ten-second rule. Any longer than this amount of time, and even Hallam risked a more dangerous level of Randenite radiation exposure. He fumbled around on the surface of the probe, hoping something would jog his memory, and finally found the compartment he was looking for, more by accident than design. Ripping the panel open, Hallam saw the battery-like component Dr. Rand needed and wrapped his fingers around it, but the device wouldn’t budge.

“Damn it, come on!” Hallam snarled, guessing that he’d already gone well over his allotted ten seconds. Finally, Hallam managed to pry the component free, and he yanked it clear of the casket before slamming the lid shut.

“What the hell are you doing!?” a female voice yelled into the room.

The shout made Hallam jump, and the alien component spilled from his grasp, then rolled away into some dark corner of the room. He cursed, then spun around to see a CSF enforcer standing into the door to Sector A1. In his haste, Hallam had forgotten that there was another route into his current location.

“Put that back, you fool, or you’ll kill us all!” the woman shouted, pushing her palms out toward him, as if trying to shield herself from a sandstorm.

A second alarm then blared out through the PA system and a robotic-sounding voice announced, “Warning. Randenite radiation leak detected. Sealing Sector A2. Emergency decontamination will commence in thirty seconds.”

The CSF enforcer dove back through the door and smashed a panel to its side, causing it to rapidly slide shut. A shutter then rolled down in front of it, and the panels snapped together into a solid wall of metal.

“No!” cried Hallam, rushing over to the door leading back to where Dakota was still fighting, but it too had also slid shut. Through the window, he could see Dakota running down the corridor toward him, blood streaming from a cut to her forehead.

“Dak! We have to get out!” Hallam yelled. Then a metal shutter began to roll down from above the door. Knowing he had only a couple of seconds to act, Hallam tore a lid off a small box to his side and tried to jam the shutter open. However, all he succeeded in doing was slowing its inevitable descent. The whir of powerful motors persisted, and slowly, the shutter continued to grind downwards.

“Hallam, get out!” Dakota called back, reaching the door and slamming the palms of her hands against it. “Save yourself!” she cried.

CSF heavies then flooded into the corridor behind Dakota. She dropped her weapon and raised her hands. The enforcers struck her in the gut then twisted her arms behind her back and secured them with binders.

“Dak!” Hallam yelled again, hammering on the door, but Dakota was already being dragged away.

The metal lid finally gave way and the shutter slammed down fully, cutting off his view of Dakota, but Hallam continued to hammer at the door.

“Emergency decontamination in progress,” the robotic voice announced as Hallam’s knuckles began to bleed from continually punching solid metal.

Suddenly, the room started to fill with a foul-tasting mist. It took Hallam a second to realize that it was a common decontamination compound that was used to soak-up and encapsulate Randenite radiation. In smaller amounts, the substance was harmless to humans, but the room was being pumped so full of the material that soon there would be no air left to breathe at all.

Coughing the chemical compound from his lungs, Hallam dropped low, where the mist had yet to encroach fully, and crawled toward where the cutting tool was still working to slice through the deck. Peering through the mist, Hallam desperately tried to locate the alien component, but the room was already so thick with the vapor that it was impossible to see more than a couple of meters ahead. Pushing on blindly, banging into boxes and crates to either side of him, Hallam finally spotted the cutting tool. The device had finished its task, and a circular chunk of metal had dropped away, leaving a hole cut clean through the deck. Blinking the cloudy chemical compound from his eyes, Hallam dragged himself into the opening and let himself slide through it. Cold, damp air rushed over his skin as he fell the six feet to the swamp below. He splatted face-first into the boggy swamp water outside and rolled over, spitting the foul-tasting muck from his mouth. He then lay still, staring up at the hole he’d just escaped through. However, he’d escaped alone, leaving Dakota – and also the crucial alien component – inside the complex. Pressing his bloodied fists to his eyes, Hallam tried to retain his composure, but it was all too much. He let out a primal roar that was a heady mix of frustration, guilt, and anger. However, he wasn’t done yet. The alien component was lost, but there was still a chance to get Dakota back.

8

Hallam pushed himself out of the mud and sat up, spitting more of the bitter-tasting swamp water out of his mouth. Wiping grey-green slime from his face and eyes, he tried to get his bearings. His head was still spinning from the chemical compound that had been injected into the room. However, Dakota’s cries and the image of her being dragged away by the CSF heavies was still clear as day in his mind.

Rising unsteadily to his feet, Hallam’s first thought was to run back to the shutter door, and to fight his way back inside the complex. He still had his sidearm, and if he could break Dakota free, they could fight their way out together. I can do this, Hallam told himself, taking his first uneven steps toward the shuttered entrance. I can’t leave Dak behind… I can’t go without her…

Through the driving rain and continual rumbles of thunder, Hallam picked up the distant sound of heavy boots squelching in the mud. Peering toward the far side of the complex, he spotted three CSF enforcers in full combat armor fanning out. Their rifles were equipped with powerful torchlight attachments, which the enforcers were using to sweep the area underneath the complex.

Hallam drew his pistol and moved into cover as the sweeping flashlights drew closer. Sense and reason told him to run and get back to the fighter. Ruby Rivas would be waiting out in the Darkspace, somewhere within range of the planet, ready to come to their aid when signaled. Together, he and Ruby had a far better chance of rescuing Dakota than Hallam alone, armed only with a pistol. Hallam knew all this, but instead of moving away, he stalked closer to the approaching heavies. It wasn’t anger that was driving him on or even vengefulness. He just couldn’t face leaving Dakota behind, not if there was a chance to save her.

Dropping a knee into the mud, Hallam took cover behind one of the outpost block’s stilts, took aim, and fired. The crack of the pistol caused the enforcers to scatter and look for cover of their own. The gruff-sounding voice of the enforcer called Rhys barked commands into the foggy air. Hallam emptied his magazine and one of the heavies fell, clutching his leg. Ducking back into cover, Hallam reloaded and sucked in deep lungfuls of the rogue world’s cold, misty air. Hallam’s pistol may not have been effective against Cad Rikkard’s unique armor, but the regular CAF combat armor was just as vulnerable as his own renegade gear. Hallam continued to fire, hitting another enforcer before pulling back behind cover. A barrage of rifle fire then clattered against the metal stilt and he cursed, realizing that he’d been spotted.

More commands were barked into the air from the lead enforcer, but Hallam couldn’t make out the words. He leaned around the stilt and squeezed the trigger, but return fire pushed him back into cover again. He felt pain sting his arm and tore back the fabric of his shirt, but breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that the round had only nicked his flesh. The bite of pain and clatter of bullets pinning him down had snapped him back to the reality of his situation. He’d been a fool to stay and fight a far superior force. Now his only options were to surrender or to fight on and die. What good would getting myself killed do now? he told himself, though the thought of submitting to the CSF made him sick to the stomach.

“Throw down your weapon and step out with your hands raised!” shouted the gruff-sounding enforcer called Rhys.

The enforcer’s voice carried to him loud and clear, and Hallam guessed that the man was no more than ten meters away from his position. Hallam growled and banged the back of his head against the stilt, trying to jolt his brain into coming up with another option. The truth was there was nothing he could do.

“Okay, I’m coming out!” Hallam shouted, tossing his weapon out into the mud.

“Step out slowly, with your hands raised!” came the order again, and Hallam obeyed, standing in front of the remaining two heavies and raising his hands, though he barely brought them to shoulder height. That was the most amount of defiance he could now muster.

“Turn around and kneel!” the enforcer shouted, pulling a set of binders from his belt.

Reluctantly, Hallam turned and dropped into the sodden earth. The CSF heavy slung his rifle and reached for Hallam’s hands, then stopped as a guttural growl rumbled through the fog. Several terrifying moments of stillness followed before the second heavy cried, “Look out!”

Hallam was hit in the back and knocked face-first into the mud, though he didn’t know by whom or by what. Screams then mixed with the crack of rifle fire. Drawing the mud from his eyes, Hallam spun around and saw one of the reptilian creatures sinking its jagged teeth into the neck of Rhys, the gruff-sounding enforcer. The second heavy was firing at the creature at point blank range, but then he too was tackled from the side by another creature, even bigger than the first. The beast dragged the enforcer down into the mud then tore through the man’s armor as if it were wet cardboard. The enforcer screamed in pain and terror but was quickly silenced as the beast’s talon-like claw cleaved the flesh from his body.

Hallam scrambled away from the monsters, heart thumping wildly in his chest. He managed to climb to his feet and run. He didn’t know where he was heading and didn’t care, so long as he got away from the beasts. Then out of the mist ahead of him, Hallam he saw the eyes of another huge creature. Digging his heels into the mud, Hallam tried to stop but simply slid out of control and collided with a cluster of jagged rocks. The impact winded him and he felt the sharp stones cut and graze his skin. The third creature stalked forward, a low rumble reverberating through its thick, armored shell. Hallam circled away from it, using the rocks as a shield, but then fell and slid down a steep, muddy bank. Arms and legs flailing in an attempt to control his descent, he collided with something solid and came to rest.

Coughing more muddy water from his mouth, Hallam clawed himself up and saw the body of another CSF heavy in the mud. The woman’s flesh had also been ripped and torn open, and the body was missing a leg. The glint of metal caught Hallam’s eyes as the creature appeared at the top of the slope, steam snorting from its nostrils. Hallam dug into the mud and managed to retrieve the dead enforcer’s rifle. Flopping back against the corpse and using it to prop himself up, Hallam took aim at the creature as it clawed its way down the bank. Hallam fired, but the bullets merely seemed to bounce of the scaly armor with no effect. Hands shaking, he fired again and again until, out of sheer luck, Hallam landed shots into the creature’s eyes and snarling, open mouth. The monster writhed in agony and roared, the sound of its cry cutting through Hallam like a rusty saw. It was a sound that he knew from that moment until the day he died, he’d never be able to forget.

Tossing the rifle aside, Hallam scrambled up the other side of the ravine as the enraged, blinded creature thrashed and roared in the mud. Reaching the top, Hallam ran for his life, but fatigue was starting to overcome his adrenaline-fueled sprint for survival. He lost his footing in the slippery mire and tumbled face-first down the bank of another gully. Once again, his shoulder collided with something solid, arresting his fall. Expecting to find another mutilated body, he pushed himself up, but this time, his hands fell on something cold and metallic. Gasping for breath, Hallam clawed himself upright and found himself staring at the ATV. He almost burst into tears from the sudden flood of relief that overwhelmed him.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, Hallam placed a trembling hand onto the wheel and pressed the initiator to start the systems. The ATV hummed into life, and he rested his forehead on the wheel, as if in prayer. Then he set off at a furious speed toward the denser swampland where Dakota’s fighter was hidden. The sky seemed to suddenly brighten, and Hallam glanced back to see that floodlights had switched on all around the complex. Each one seemed to highlight a cluster of the reptilian creatures, which were all slowly advancing on the compound. Autocannon turrets whirred into action and began pummeling the creatures with 20mm rounds. Suddenly, one of the searchlights tilted upwards and landed on the ATV. Cursing, Hallam veered away as rounds thudded into the vehicle’s lightly armored shell. The searchlight continued to track him, and out of desperation, Hallam turned into another gully, below the weapon’s line of sight. However, he’d carried too much speed into the slippery slope and slid out of control, slamming into the filthy stream at the bottom. The bridge of Hallam’s nose hit the steering wheel hard. He tasted blood and was forced to blink away tears, but he kept his foot on the accelerator and powered the ATV on.

Wiping the water from his eyes, Hallam could now see the wall of dense trees and swampland at the edge of the two-kilometer perimeter. Pulling out of the gully, he steered for the gap that he and Dakota had punched through on their arrival. Almost immediately, the searchlight acquired him again. Cannon rounds smashed into the cockpit instruments and shattered the mud-splattered windshield, ironically making it easier for Hallam to see where he was going. Miraculously, he had escaped without getting hit, but as he broke through into the dark, tree-covered swampland where he hoped the fighter was still waiting for him, the motor of the ATV began to falter.

In the distance, the autocannon continued to fire into the swampland, but away from the probing gaze of the searchlights, the turret’s aim was wildly off target. I’m going to make it… Hallam told himself as the fighter came into view ahead of him. I’m almost there…

Suddenly, the ATV was hammered from the side, as if another vehicle had sideswiped him at a crossroads. It skidded across the mud and toppled over, sliding down a shallow bank before friction from the thick, goopy mud ground it to a stop. Hallam shook his head and let his body fall out of the seat. A dozen more scrapes and bruises had been added to his already battered frame, but nothing felt broken. Climbing out from the upturned ATV, he heard the guttural growl of the creature that had rammed him, though he couldn’t see where it was. However, what he could see were the tall tail fins of Dakota’s fighter. Without a second thought, Hallam ran for the ship, realizing that it was the only safe haven left available to him on the entire planet.

Hallam’s boots trudged through the thick mud, each step sticking as if he were walking through syrup, but eventually, he reached the fighter. Another guttural growl caused him to glance behind, and this time, he saw the creature clearly. It was perhaps twice the size of the others he’d encountered, and bore the scars of a lifetime of savage encounters with others of its kind. Using the landing struts for support, Hallam hurried to the rear of the ship, then punched the emergency ramp release. The sight of the enormous beast should have filled him with dread, but he had already reached a peak of emotional terror, and he simply couldn’t process anything more.

The creature stalked closer as Hallam climbed onto the ramp, not waiting for it to open fully. Sodden, bloodied, and caked in mud, he dropped on to the deck of the small rear cargo hold with a nauseating splat, then dragged himself inside and closed the ramp behind him. The gears whirred, then a huge claw reached inside, and the eyes of the creature appeared through the narrowing gap between the ramp and the hull of the fighter. The beast opened its cavernous mouth and snarled, teeth dripping with saliva.

Hallam looked for something with which to fight the creature and instinctively grabbed a fire extinguisher. He advanced far closer to the beast than he wanted to be, then thrust the nozzle into its open mouth before squeezing the handle. The creature reared back as the gas filled its throat and lungs, its claw carving a furrow into the metal of the ramp as it rapidly withdrew.

Hallam tossed the extinguisher onto the deck and ran as hard as he could through the ship and into the cockpit. Dropping into the pilot’s chair, he hurriedly enabled the systems and fired up the main engines. The roar of the creature came again, penetrating the ship’s armor. It was more gut-wrenching than the death cries of the earlier beast, and more primal even than the thunderous rumble of the skies above him. Enabling the vertical lift thrusters, Hallam increased power, pulling the landing struts free of their muddy shackles, and the fighter steadily lifted into the air.

Suddenly, alarms shrieked and the fighter veered to one side, as if it were a ship trying to set sail without weighing anchor. Arching his neck, Hallam saw the creature clinging onto one of the vessel’s landing struts. Increasing power to compensate, Hallam pushed the fighter higher, piercing the canopy of tall, drooping trees, but still the creature held on. More alerts sounded, and Hallam saw targeting locks flash up on his panel, as searchlights again began to cut through the darkness toward him. Slamming the main engine throttle forward, Hallam pulled up and climbed into the stormy skies. The need for stealth was long gone. Now all that mattered was survival.

The drag on the ship increased, but then vanished as another alarm chimed on his panel. The landing strut had been torn clean off the ship by the creature, which was now dropping through the sky like a meteorite. However, Hallam kept his eyes focused ahead as the stormy, dark clouds gave way to starry nothingness.

Hallam brought the Shelby Drive back online and programmed the location of the closest renegade hideout into the navigation computer. He didn’t care where it was, so long as it was away from the hellish planet that was rapidly receding behind him. Yet, as much as he wanted to never see the rogue world again, he knew he had to go back – but not without help.

Hallam activated Dr. Rand’s unique bridge space communication system that was integrated into every renegade fighter, and entered the unique identifier code for Ruby Rivas. He copied the coordinates of his new destination into the message, then started a voice recording.

“Wolf Two, this is Wolf Three… Ruby, I need you. They have Dakota…” He thought about saying more, but there was nothing more to say – at least nothing that mattered. He transmitted the message, sending it racing through bridge space to wherever Ruby Rivas was waiting, then initiated the Shelby Drive countdown. His scanners bleeped as two fighter contacts were picked up, racing toward him from the planet’s surface, but he ignored them. Neither would reach him before his ship blinked out of normal space and entered the mysterious sub-dimension that would carry him to safety, at least temporarily. And even if the fighter could reach him in time, Hallam simply lacked the energy to do anything about it.

Time to roll the cosmic dice, once again… Hallam thought as he patted Bob the bear, then rested back in the pilot’s chair and closed his eyes. The mud was already drying, caking him to the seat as if he had been melted into it. An alert blared out inside the cabin, signaling that a missile had been launched, followed soon after by another, but Hallam remained where he was, eyes still softly closed. The frequency of the alert tone grew more urgent as the missiles drew closer, until it was almost a single, solid howl. Then the noise vanished, along with Hallam’s Darkspace renegade fighter, which was now racing through bridge space, toward his rendezvous with destiny.

9

Cad Rikkard and Draga Vex looked down at the town on Carmentis where Falken had indicated a renegade outpost operated. They were standing on the ridge of a nearby mountain. The sun was setting behind them, casting a burnt orange filter across the rocky terrain. Lights were already switching on in the streets and buildings far below them. The soft purr of thousands of Carmentian crickets filled the air, which was still warm and sweet-smelling. Despite being a man of action and violence, Cad appreciated the beauty and serenity of the place. He took a moment to soak it all in, knowing that soon the peace of the town would be shattered by the sound of death and destruction.

As one of the youngest and outermost bridge worlds, the civilization on Carmentis was still developing. However, since it had been first colonized a decade before Minerva, the settlements on Carmentis had far less of a frontier town feel to them. The town at the foot of the mountain had a population of just over two thousand, split between various manufacturing and mining industries. Cad had learned that it was relatively prosperous, certainly compared to the towns on the planet’s northern continents, and had an easy-going community vibe to it. The place was also striking to look at, reminding Cad of parts of southwestern Utah, with its rocky canyons and alpine forests.

To Cad’s mind, it was also an unlikely location for a renegade outpost, and both he and Draga had initially challenged Falken’s data. Cad had been convinced that all of Rand’s hideouts were located in the Darkspace, far away from Damien Doyle’s spidery reach. However, the quirky hacker had been correct, much to Cad’s annoyance. Luckily for her, Falken hadn’t rubbed Cad’s nose in her victory. Had she done so, Cad would have been liable to smash the hacker’s face into her computer desk at their next encounter.

The renegade outpost on Carmentis was not actually a hideout as such, but more of a rest-stop. The intention was to provide a safe space where renegade operatives could lay low, refuel their ships, and hide in plain sight. This particular outpost was masquerading as a repair yard on the outskirts of the town. Cad’s long-range observations, courtesy of Draga’s surveillance drones, suggested that it operated just like any other repair yard. However, Draga’s miniature spies in the sky had also seen people entering and not leaving. More detailed scans had revealed a bunker system hidden underneath the yard, like a sort of ancient fallout shelter. Cad was again impressed with the genius scientist’s inventiveness. The outposts had gone undiscovered for years, and it had required the energies of another genius to uncover them.

Whatever the purpose of this particular outpost, Cad didn’t hold out much hope that there was anyone of sufficient import inside, and certainly no one who was likely to know Rand’s location. The latter didn’t bother Cad, since he was no longer involved in Damien Doyle’s bizarre obsession to find the scientist. He’d already burned his bridges with the multi-trillionaire. More than this, Doyle’s act of retribution by putting a contract out on the Blackfire Squadron had made the irascible magnate his enemy. Unfortunately, he was an enemy that even Cad Rikkard and the Blackfire Squadron could not touch – at least not yet – especially with Alexis Black still recovering on Fortuna.

Damien Doyle would be dealt with in time, Cad had assured himself. His focus now was on Hallam Knight and Dakota Wulfrun – the only two people to have ever fought the Blackfire Squadron and lived to tell the tale. And, perhaps, the renegades masquerading as simple repair-shop workers might know enough to at least give him Knight’s location. Cad knew it was a long-shot, but it was also better than sitting on his hands and doing nothing.

“How do you want to do this?” asked Draga, lowering a pair of binoculars to her side. “This town may be small, but it does have a detachment of local enforcers. It’s best if we avoid getting flagged on a criminal watch list. It will restrict our movements.”

Cad grunted and stroked the bottom of his chin with his thumb. Both mercenaries were wearing their iridescent black power armor. The special account that Damien Doyle had given Cad access to had already been disabled, but Cad still had all of the weapons and equipment he’d previously bought using the magnate’s money. Cad glanced across to a power substation about a kilometer from the town, still stroking his chin, then peered back toward the repair yard.

“Are there any more missiles or RPGs in that combat pod of yours?” asked Cad, hooking his thumb in the direction of Draga’s ship. This was parked next to his own, a couple of hundred meters behind them on the ridge.

“I have something that will take out that power sub-station, yes,” said Draga, already in-tune with Cad’s thinking, as she so often was.

“Good, then we kill power to the town, drop into the yard, and grab whoever is in charge,” said Cad, who had now stopped stroking his chin. “We then fly him back up here and beat some answers out of him, before the renegades realize what hit them. That way, if the local enforcers do come snooping around, we’ll be long gone.”

Draga nodded then looked up at the sky. “It will be dark in less than thirty minutes. I suggest we wait until it is before we launch the assault. That will also give me the time I need to set up the missile launcher.”

Cad grunted again, which was all the confirmation that Draga needed. She turned and Cad heard her armored boots scrunching away toward their fighters. A distant roar of starship engines then caught Cad’s attention, and he saw a mid-sized vessel heading toward his ridgetop location from the direction of Pallantia, the capital city of Carmentis’ southwestern province. Cad’s eyes narrowed and his hand instinctively went to his sword as he watched the vessel with the concentration of a tiger stalking a gazelle. Ever since the attack by Group-X on Minerva, Cad had remained vigilant, wary of an attack by another mercenary group. However, as he watched the vessel turn and head away, Cad relaxed his grip on the sword, though only by a fraction. He may have already dealt with Group-X, but there were still plenty of other mercenary groups that Doyle could turn to. The only surprising aspect of this new reality was that none of these mercenary companies had yet to rear their ugly heads. With the sort of bounty that Doyle was offering – five million, if Xander Blade was to be believed – Cad had half expected a dozen attempts on his life by now.

The sun dipped below the horizon and the sky turned dark, bleeding away the heat of the day. Cad remained on the top of the ridge and continued to observe the repair yard, until the scrunch of boots signaled Draga’s return. Cad turned to her, spotting that her signature semi-automatic shotgun was now stowed on her back.

“We’re ready,” Draga said, plainly.

Cad nodded, also observing that Draga had added a more powerful thruster pack to her armor. “We only need to carry one of them back up here,” he said, looking at the formidable device, which was likely capable of sending Draga into orbit, never mind to the top of a mountain ridge.

“We don’t know how big this renegade leader is,” replied Draga, still with a matter-of-fact tone.

Cad shrugged, conceding the point. In fairness, so long as the renegade made it to the ridge alive, he didn’t care how he got there. Cad was about to give the order to advance on the repair yard, when his attention was suddenly drawn to a shimmer in the distance, several kilometers west of the town. It looked like a dust storm, which in itself wasn’t unusual for Carmentis, Cad realized, but mixed in amongst the sand there appeared to be water, flowing in mid-air.

“What the hell is going on over there?” said Cad, pointing the anomaly out to Draga.

His partner turned to look, scowling and raising her binoculars to her eyes. “It appears that the river is flowing into the sky,” said Draga, handing the binoculars to Cad. As usual, she had uttered the words without any emotion, though Cad did detect a measure of surprise in her voice.

Cad took the binoculars and peered through the lenses, but he could hardly believe his eyes. The water did appear to be flowing upwards into the sky, as if some ancient mythical god was gently sucking the water into the clouds. Then whatever had been drawing the river upwards suddenly released its invisible hold, and the water crashed back to the ground, refilling the river bed and flooding the dusty banks surrounding it. Cad shook his head and handed the binoculars back to Draga, who took them and stowed them onto her waist.

“Maybe Rand was right about the damage bridge travel is doing to the planets after all,” said Cad as the dust began to settle.

Draga had told Cad of Hallam Knight’s wild claims that the collapsing bridges would throw earth and all the bridge worlds into chaos. He’d listened with interest but not placed much stock in the renegade’s claims, despite having heard of similar rumors circulating on the dark BridgeNet.

“We all die eventually,” Draga answered with a detached finality that was dark, even for her.

Cad raised an eyebrow at her, but Draga simply peered back, the whites of her eyes vivid against the encroaching darkness. “Just not tonight, agreed?” said Cad.

Draga nodded then enabled her thruster pack, and Cad did the same. The female mercenary pulled on her helmet, drawing another frown from Cad.

“I don’t think you’ll need that,” said Cad, nodding to the helmet. “I doubt whoever is down there will put up any more of a fight than that pathetic troupe of bandits did on Minerva.”

“I don’t need it for the fight,” said Draga.

Cad waited for her to elaborate on the reason why, but no further clarification was forthcoming, and he chose not to press her further. Draga didn’t do anything without a good reason, and so Cad trusted that if she was wearing a helmet, it was because she needed it.

“I’ll see you down there,” said Cad, drawing his Black Prince sword.

Draga nodded again, then input a short sequence of commands into the watch built into the wrist of her armor. A second later, a missile shot into the sky from somewhere beyond where their fighters were parked. Cad watched as the weapon climbed into the clear, black sky then turned sharply, racing toward the large power sub-station that fed the town below them. It thudded into its target, obliterating an area three times larger than the substation itself in an inferno of flame and acrid smoke. The boom of the resulting explosion resonated off the mountains and ridges all around them, like a drum beating a call to war.

Cad turned back to the town, which had instantly been plunged into blackness. The faint whir of sirens filtered up to them and Cad took one last, deep breath of the sweet mountain air, then activated his thruster pack and jumped off the ridge.

10

Cad Rikkard arced across the Carmentian night sky like a shooting star, then plummeted toward the renegade outpost that was posing as a repair yard. He waited until the last moment to increase power to the thrusters in order to arrest his descent. He wanted his arrival to be sudden and shocking, so that the renegades would be caught completely off guard.

The cooling night air rushed past Cad’s face, and he regretted not wearing his helmet, if only for the protection the visor would offer. However, the computer system built into his armor compensated for his own blurred vision, and Cad’s meteoric landing in the yard elicited the desired amount of shock and awe from the renegades inside.

Cad rose to his full height and marched toward the main building, sword glinting in the moonlight. Bodies scattered like startled pigeons, shouting terrified cries and expletives. The reactions of the renegades pleased Cad. Their fear and wonder were nothing less than he deserved.

“Who the hell are you!?” one man shouted as Cad paced slowly toward him.

The man was holding a sledgehammer, and judging by his powerful frame, Cad was under no illusion that he possessed ample strength in his body to wield it effectively. Cad smiled as the man then advanced. He was actually impressed that at least one person had stood his ground. Perhaps someone in this outpost will offer me a satisfying fight after all… he thought hopefully.

“I said, who the hell are you!” the man barked again, lifting the sledgehammer over his shoulder and jabbing a stubby finger toward Cad.

“Are you the leader of this renegade outpost?” said Cad, stopping a few meters short of the man and flashing the blade at him. Unlike the sledgehammer-wielding brute, Cad had remained calm and even courteous. He wanted to offer the renegades the opportunity to co-operate, though he fully expected them not to.

“Are you loopy, or what?” the man hit back, shaking his head in disbelief. “Do we look like renegades? This is a repair yard, you moron. Now get lost!”

Cad sighed and adjusted his grip on the sword. “I know that you are all part of Shelby Rand’s little posse of rebels,” he said, remaining calm, but also speaking more forcefully. “So I’ll ask you one more time, and only once more,” Cad continued, holding the man’s angry eyes. “Are you the leader of this renegade outpost?”

The man seemed to realize that his bluff was not working, and he gave up on his pleas of ignorance. Looking Cad over from top to toe, as if sizing him up, the man then smiled.

“So you’re the one, are you?” the man asked, lifting the hammer off his sizeable shoulder and clutching it with both hands. “You’re the bastard who attacked the hideouts and slaughtered the people inside like animals?” The man took another step toward Cad and aimed the head of the hammer at his chest. “You’re the famous Cad Rikkard, right?”

“If you know who I am, you should know what I’ll do to you if you refuse me,” Cad answered, holding his ground. The space between them felt charged, like two opposing magnets being pushed closer together.

“Do your worst…” said the man. He then slipped his huge hand off the hammer and appeared to signal to the building behind him. All the while, his eyes remained locked on to Cad’s.

Moments later, Cad saw six shadows scurrying out of the main building and take up positions behind objects in the yard, ranging from a pile of old tires to a rusty fork-lift. With the power to the town still out, only the silvery Carmentian moon provided any light, but it was enough for Cad to see the glint of weapons in the renegades’ hands.

“I’m not the boss here, no,” the burly man eventually replied, slapping the handle of the sledgehammer into his palm. “I’m just the guy who’s gonna smash your ugly face in and spit on your dead body.”

Cad acknowledged the response with a dignified and – at least judging by the renegade’s reaction to it – incongruous nod. “So be it,” he replied, raising the Black Prince and preparing to fight.

Cad had expected the man to charge at him, like a blood-crazed barbarian king attacking a skilled Roman general on the battlefield. However, the man instead dropped and flattened his powerful body to the ground. The sheer absurdity of the act puzzled Cad for long enough to allow the six other renegades to open fire at him. Cad ducked away from the hailstorm of bullets and shielded his face as shots pinged off his armor. He cursed the renegades for their ignoble tactics. He’d graciously offered them a chance to capitulate, and instead, they’d chosen death. Cad tapped his watch as bullets continued to deflect harmlessly off his armor, and said, “Draga… now.”

The roar of jet thrusters filled the air, and the gunfire from the renegades suddenly stopped. Cad rose just in time to see Draga Vex plummeting through the roof of the main building, like a rock fired from a medieval trebuchet. More frantic cries and curses filled the air, followed soon after by the boom of Draga’s semi-automatic shotgun.

Once again, the burly man had kept his wits about him where his companions had panicked. The man was already back to his feet, hammer in hand and expressing a clear intent to use it. Cad dodged back as the man advanced, swinging the mighty hammer as easily as a fencer wielding a foil. The speed of the attack initially caught Cad by surprise, and he took a strike to his chest, sending him skidding across the smooth tarmac like a hockey puck. However, the armor absorbed the blow, and Cad managed to remain on his feet as the man continued to surge toward him. Cad dodged another two huge strikes that could have felled trees before a perfectly-timed swing of his Black Prince sliced through the handle of the hammer, as easily as chopping the head off a daisy. The heavy metal block soared through the air and thudded into the door of a nearby shed, smashing it open.

Pressing his advantage, Cad stunned the man with a swift left jab, sending him staggering backward. Cad then thrust the blade through the man’s enormous shoulder while grabbing the back of his neck and dragging him closer. The razor-sharp sword slid through the renegade’s flesh like a hot knife through butter. The man howled in pain, but Cad was careful to ensure that the progress of the blade was as slow and as agonizing as possible.

“Who is the leader here?” asked Cad, practically whispering into the man’s ear while he was paralyzed by pain. “Merely point the person out to me, and the rest of you – those who are still alive anyway – can go free. You have my word.”

The man spluttered a tormented gurgle in reply, then more renegades charged out of the building, closely followed by Draga Vex. It was like she was a pub landlord, tossing out the last few stragglers into the street before closing up.

“Stop!” a woman shouted, running into the center of the yard with her hands raised. “I’m the one you want. Just stop, and I’ll talk.”

Cad allowed the heavy-set man to slide off the end of his blade and collapse to the floor like a butchered carcass. He then took two measured paces toward the woman. The shooting had stopped, and in its absence, Cad could hear the wail of enforcer sirens in the distance.

“You are the leader of this renegade outfit?” Cad asked as Draga continued to advance toward her.

“I am,” the woman replied, still with her hands up. “Just stop this, and I’ll cooperate, okay?”

Cad looked past the woman, met Draga’s eyes, and nodded the command. Without uttering a word, Draga stowed her shotgun and bear-hugged the woman from behind. The remaining renegades all flinched, but none had a chance to react before Draga’s powerful thruster pack engaged. The mercenary and renegade leader rocketed into the sky, leaving a cloud of exhaust smoke in their wake.

Cad was then struck across the shoulder, but the force of the blow was feeble and ineffective. He turned to see the burly man glaring back at him, grasping the sledgehammer handle in his weaker left hand while cradling his injured right shoulder.

“If you kill her, I’ll hunt you down!” the man growled. “Do you hear me, scum! I’ll kill you!”

Cad’s eyes hardened. He had expected anger from the renegades. The humiliation of defeat was a bitter pill to swallow. However, the insult and feeble threats were a step too far. He’d offered this man his word of honor, yet he’d shown him not one ounce of respect. Cad spun on his heels and swung the Black Prince, its lethal edge cutting through the air so cleanly that the blade barely made a sound. Moments later, the stocky renegade’s head fell from his shoulders and hit the ground with a hollow thud, followed a second later by the man’s enormous frame.

Cad sheathed his sword and activated his own thrusters, soaring into the sky in pursuit of Draga and the renegade leader. The yard below him remained silent, save for the wail of sirens. Cad could see enforcer transports pulling up outside the gates. However, to anyone on the ground, Cad was already an indistinct blur in the dark sky.

11

The top of the ridge was approaching fast, and Cad could already see that Draga and the renegade leader had landed. Cad began his approach, then his watch bleeped an incoming call. Frowning, he glanced down and saw that the caller was Damien Doyle, which merely caused his frown to deepen into a scowl. Ignoring the bleeping watch for the moment, Cad cut the thrusters and descended smoothly onto the ridge, touching down barely five meters from Draga. The renegade outpost leader was on her knees at Draga’s side with the mercenary’s armored hand pressed over her mouth.

“Who is that?” Draga asked, nodding toward Cad’s still bleeping watch.

“Believe it or not, it’s Doyle,” replied Cad, causing Draga’s thin black eyebrows to raise up. “Don’t worry, I’m just as surprised as you are…” Cad said, realizing that Draga and amazement were two phenomenon that were rarely seen together. Cad pointed to the renegade and said, “Keep her there while I find out what he wants.”

Draga nodded and Cad walked a few meters away from the edge of the ridge before answering the call. Emitters in the neck of Cad’s power armor projected the image of Damien Doyle directly onto his retinas, so that the tycoon appeared to be standing on the rocky ridge in front of him.

“Did you misdial?” said Cad, the sarcasm flowing as naturally as his sword had done moments earlier.

“Very droll, Mr. Rikkard,” Damien Doyle replied, appearing as unimpressed with the remark as Cad expected him to be. The magnate was then unusually silent for a couple of seconds. If Cad hadn’t known better, he might have even said the multi-trillionaire looked embarrassed. “I know we’ve had our differences, Mr. Rikkard,” Doyle said, finally speaking up. “However, I want to offer an opportunity to mend our fractured alliance.”

Doyle had not met Cad’s eyes while saying this. The magnate’s body had become as tense and as stilted as his words. Clearly, offering a truce had not been easy, Cad realized. With Doyle on the defensive, Cad wanted to press his advantage and lay into the older man for his fumbled attempt to assassinate him. However, he was also curious to learn the reason for Doyle’s change of heart, and so held back, deciding to indulge him.

“I’m listening,” said Cad, folding his arms and resting his thumb on the bottom of his chin.

“The renegades have managed to infiltrate a highly confidential Consortium installation,” Doyle continued, looking more at ease now that Cad had retracted his claws. “It is imperative that I learn what they were looking for, and how this relates to whatever Shelby Rand is planning.”

Cad shrugged. “So use your enforcers to find out,” he replied, feeling disappointed that Doyle simply wanted him to continue the work that his own forces were too inept to manage. Then, with a darker edge, he added, “Or maybe you could hire Group-X again.” Cad waited a moment then clicked his gloved fingers, the snap of metal sounding sharp and clinical. “Oh, wait, I forgot that I already slaughtered them all, after you sent them to kill me.”

Doyle’s eyes narrowed. “Sarcasm does not become you, Mr. Rikkard,” he said, though with less bite than was usual from the man. “However, I am willing to compensate you handsomely for that rash oversight on my part.”

“A simple ‘sorry’ would be a start,” said Cad, relishing the opportunity to make the normally unflappable tycoon squirm. Doyle always went to great lengths to make people feel inferior to him, and turning the tables was worth more to Cad than money. Doyle, however, was not a man accustomed to eating humble pie and, as usual, he immediately resorted to making threats.

“You would be wise not to slap such a gracious offer out of my hand, Mr. Rikkard,” said Doyle, again allowing his disdain for Cad to show through. “The way you dealt with Group-X only highlights your suitability for this job. But be under no illusion that you are somehow irreplaceable or invulnerable. I am only using you mercenary types at all because my own enforcers would draw too much attention.”

Cad shook his head, regretting having taken the call in the first place. “You already tried to replace me, and look what that got you,” he hit back, resting his finger next to the screen of his watch, ready to cut Doyle off. “I’m not your errand boy anymore, Doyle. Find someone else.”

Cad was about to hang up when Doyle quickly added, “We have captured one of the renegades.”

Cad pulled his hand away from the watch and met Doyle’s eyes again. “Which renegade?”

Doyle hit him with a sanctimonious smile, and Cad wished he could reach into the holo image and crush the man’s skull with his bare hands.

“Dakota Wulfrun…” Doyle answered, still with the self-satisfied smile. The magnate clearly knew full-well that this name would get Cad’s attention. “I believe you know her better as the leader of the renegade Wolf Squadron,” Doyle added smoothly.

Cad tried not to react, but Doyle speaking Wulfrun’s name had grabbed his attention like a garrote to the throat, and it was clear Doyle had detected his interest.

“Fine, I’ll interrogate this renegade and find out Rand’s plan,” said Cad, swallowing his pride. Getting hold of Dakota Wulfrun was far more important to him than poking Doyle in the eye. “But I expect the expenses account to be reinstated, and the five million you offered to Group-X paid into my personal account as compensation.”

“Agreed,” said Doyle without even flinching.

Cad hated how easily Doyle threw around his money and power, and hated even more that he was once again under his employ. However, it comforted him to know that it was only a temporary arrangement. Once he had Wulfrun and Knight, he’d deal with Doyle too. Until then, he would use the multi-trillionaire’s money and intelligence network to his advantage.

“Send me the coordinates, and I’ll get under way immediately,” said Cad. Then he closed the connection, relieved to be finally rid of the sight of the man.

The sound of sirens continued to filter up to him from the town below, which was slowly coming back to life as emergency generators kicked in. Cad looked back to Draga Vex, standing beside the renegade leader, who was still on her knees, gagged by Draga’s armored hand.

“I take it you caught all that?” said Cad, and Draga just nodded, her eyes cold and emotionless. “It’s just temporary, Draga,” he added, sensing her displeasure, despite the only alteration to her appearance being the way in which the wind was toying with her saffron hair. “Once we’ve dealt with Wulfrun and Knight, we continue as planned and take out Doyle too.”

Draga nodded again, peering down at the renegade leader. “What about her?”

Cad looked at the woman, and her trembling, moist eyes met his in return. If Draga had overheard his call with Damien Doyle, then the renegade leader would have done so also. And that was a loose end that had to be tied up.

“Get rid of her,” said Cad, almost equaling Draga’s level of icy detachment. “We leave at once.”

Cad turned away and breathed in the cool, sweet smelling air of Carmentis, which felt even more invigorating than it had done earlier. Doyle had claimed he wasn’t invulnerable, but he’d taken the arrogant businessman’s best shot and remained standing. Yet Doyle had the nerve to threaten him again, believing he was safe in his ivory tower, surrounded by walls and guarded by his personal protection bot. In time, Cad would put that assumption to the test. However, before Doyle met his end, there was the matter of the Wolf Squadron to deal with.

Cad breathed deeply again and listened to the chaotic song of the Carmentian crickets fill the cool night air. Then the peace of the night was shattered by the screams of the renegade leader as Draga tossed her over the edge of the mountain ridge like a sack of garbage.

12

Hallam gritted his teeth and wrestled with the controls, but he was still hurtling toward the ground at a dangerous velocity. He pushed more power into the thrusters, but it was like the fighter’s controls had suddenly become ten times heavier. Alarms wailed as his rate of descent remained too high and he let out a roar, willing his body to respond. The fighter hit the ground hard, collapsing the two remaining landing struts in the process. The third had already been ripped off by the giant reptilian creature on the rogue world. Remarkably, other than a few extra dings and dents, the fighter was intact, as was he – though just barely.

“Thanks, Bob…” said Hallam, wearily patting the ragged bear on the head. He then staggered to the rear of the ship and lowered the ramp. However, after taking his first unsteady step down the ramp, his legs gave way and he tumbled the rest of the distance, eventually ending up on his back, staring up at the hazy Orcan sky. He remained there for a few moments longer, trying to regain his strength, but his head was pounding, his throat and chest felt tight, and he was utterly drained. However, it was more than just fatigue, combined with the myriad bumps, cuts and scrapes he’d received on the rogue world. He felt weak in a way he’d never experienced before. His thoughts turned to the alien probe and the radiation exposure he suffered during the failed attempt to retrieve it the key component Dr. Rand needed. However, he had no time to worry about that now. Dakota was still out there, and she needed his help.

Hallam pushed himself off the cool grass and staggered away from the ship, resting on a smooth, egg-shaped boulder. A crew from the renegade outpost was already surrounding his fighter, hosing down the engines and generally making sure that the machine wasn’t about to blow up. Now that he saw the fighter clearly under the light of a planet that wasn’t a hellscape of storms and lightning, he realized he was lucky to have made it to Orcus at all. There were claw marks across the rear ramp and sections of the fuselage, and in general, it looked like it had been dredged up from the bottom of a stagnant lake. Hallam then inspected his own armored flight suit, caked in a foul-smelling, grey-green mud, and realized he looked – and smelled – just as bad.

The renegade outpost on Orcus doubled as a waste disposal and processing center for the planet’s many chemical plants and pharmaceuticals industries. As such, it was situated far away from any major population center, and was typically avoided like the plague by most sensible residents of the planet. Dr. Rand had managed to acquire the business many years earlier and steadily replace the workforce with renegade sympathizers. This made it one of the few safe havens outside of the bases on the rogue moons.

One of the renegade crew approached Hallam, but he politely waved off the man’s offer of assistance. Then a rumble filled the sky and Hallam looked up to see another renegade fighter rapidly descending toward the outpost’s landing pad. Hallam managed a weak laugh as he saw the emblem painted on the side of the ship. It was that of a hand, giving the middle finger. Ruby Rivas then practically leapt out of the cockpit before the engines had even fully spun down. She slid down the fuselage and onto the tarmac with the acrobatic skill of a freerunner. Hallam attempted to let out an impressed whistle, but all that came out of his mouth was a dry croak. The second member of the Woolf Squadron then raced over to Hallam and dropped down by his side. She was staring at him with a mixture of anticipation, fear, and revulsion.

“What the hell happened to you?” Ruby began, blurting the words out. “And where’s Dakota? Is she all right?” Ruby sniffed the air and scrunched up her nose. “And why the hell do you stink so bad?”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I just got done fighting a squad of elite enforcers and six-foot killer reptiles on the swamp planet from hell,” Hallam hit back, struggling to sit more upright. “I didn’t have time to shower…”

One of the renegades from the plant ran over to Ruby, and she turned her attention to the man. “Refuel my ship and have the crashed fighter towed out of sight,” said Ruby, sounding for once like an adult instead of an annoying teen. “The CSF may be on the lookout for it, and it could give away the location of this outpost.” The man nodded then scrunched up his nose, sniffing the air, before his eyes fell on Hallam.

“I’ve been fighting monsters in the mud, okay?” Hallam snapped. The renegade recoiled and backed away, but Hallam called for him to stop. “Hey, I need you to do something for me,” he said to the renegade, waving him over. The man approached, still scrunching up his nose, and Hallam grabbed him, pulling him close and whispering into his ear. The man recoiled, nose wrinkled as if Hallam had broken wind, then quickly departed.

“What was that about?” asked Ruby, arms folded.

“It’s not important right now,” said Hallam before changing the subject. “Look, the short version of what happened is that me and Dakota got separated,” Hallam continued, his voice sounding increasingly thin and strained. “She got captured. I fought to get her back, but there was no way through, not on my own. The enforcers in that complex were too tough.”

“Is she still there, at Doyle’s complex?” asked Ruby, wound up like a spring.

Hallam shrugged. “It’s possible they’ve already moved her, but my guess is they won’t have had time yet.”

“Then we have to go, right now,” said Ruby standing up and waving for Hallam to follow.

Hallam nodded and got to his feet, but he’d barely made it three paces before weakness forced him down to one knee.

“Hey, are you hurt?” said Ruby, stopping and turning back, once she realized Hallam wasn’t with her.

“Honestly, Ruby, I don’t know,” Hallam admitted. “I got hit with a heavy dose of Randenite radiation in that complex. Way more than the ten seconds the doc suggested.”

“So you got the gizmo thing that Dr. Rand wanted?” asked Ruby hopefully.

Hallam shook his head. The memory of losing the device was still raw. “I had the damn thing in my hand,” said Hallam, holding his hands in front of his face and staring at them in frustration. “Then I got jumped by an enforcer before I could bag it. When we go back, maybe there’s a way to retrieve the component too.”

Ruby shook her head. “I knew I should never have agreed to let you two do this alone,” she snapped. However, Hallam was surprised to realize that she wasn’t admonishing him. Ruby’s anger was directed at herself.

“It’s no one’s fault, Ruby,” said Hallam, though if he was being honest, he couldn’t shake his guilt for having left without Dakota. “We were so close to pulling it off. But now we at least get to do it your way.”

“What way is that?” said Ruby, scowling.

Hallam pushed himself up and began gingerly walking toward the landing pad. “The way that involves blowing stuff up,” said Hallam, though he wasn’t smiling. He was deadly serious, and for once, Ruby didn’t respond with a quip or snide remark. She looked just as determined as Hallam did.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” asked Ruby. “You don’t exactly look one hundred percent.”

Hallam waved her off. “I’m going back to that hell planet if it kills me,” he said, though he hadn’t intended the statement to be taken literally. “And I’ll be ready to fight once we arrive, so don’t worry about me,” he added, quickening his pace. Breathing the Orcan air had already started to invigorate him.

“I’ll dig out some meds and a stim pack to get you back on your feet again,” Ruby called back to Hallam as she jogged toward her fighter.

“Great…” Hallam muttered under his breath. “A stim hangover is just what I need on top of feeling like I do now…”

Hallam ambled over to Ruby’s fighter, generating dismayed looks and scrunched up noses from the various renegades who passed him en route. By the time he reached the ship, it was fueled and ready for launch. Ruby bounded out of the now lowered rear ramp of the ship and ran up to Hallam with a med-kit.

“These should sort you out, at least until Dr. Rand can give you a full physical back at the base,” said Ruby, shoving a sequence of injectors into Hallam’s neck. Hallam winced as each different batch of chemicals was pushed into his blood stream. Once Ruby was done, Hallam felt like he’d just been the main course at a vampire banquet. However, the cumulative effect of the drugs was already having a dramatic effect, and he immediately felt vitality returning to his body.

“These meds are going to kick my ass harder than Dakota in a bad mood once they wear off,” said Hallam, flexing his muscles, which felt strong again. His throat also felt a lot better, to the point where he no longer sounded like a fifty-a-day smoker. “But it’ll be enough to get this done.”

Hallam started to climb the ramp of Ruby’s fighter with renewed energy and a rejuvenated sense of purpose. However, Ruby blocked his path, thrusting both hands out toward him. It was like she was trying to stop Hallam from walking into a surprise birthday party before everyone was ready.

“Whoa there, tanker man, there’s still something we need to take care of first,” Ruby said.

Hallam scowled and pressed his hands to his hips. “What the hell, Ruby, we don’t have time for this!”

“This’ll only take a minute,” said Ruby, pointing toward a storage locker behind Hallam. “It’s just by that door.”

Hallam sighed and threw out his arms. “Fine, just get the ship ready to go,” he grumbled, trudging unwillingly over to the locker. He’d barely turned around again before he was hit with a powerful jet of water. The pressure of the stream combined with the ice-cold temperature of the water stole his breath away, and all he could do was flail around, helplessly trying to shield his face from the glacial onslaught. The next thing he knew, he was on the ground, the powerful jet still gushing over him like he’d accidentally walked through a carwash. Then it stopped, and Hallam was left gasping for air on the tarmac, soaked from head to toe. A few seconds later, Hallam saw the face of Ruby Rivas standing over him.

“Sorry about that,” said Ruby, extending a hand to Hallam. “But there was no chance you were getting on my ship smelling like a latrine.”

Hallam accepted the offer of help, and Ruby hauled him to his feet. He looked down, saw a river of grey-green slime flowing into the drains, and shuddered. Then he looked at his sodden flight suit, seeing its natural color for the first time since arriving on Doyle’s rogue world, and huffed a laugh.

“I guess I did smell pretty bad,” he said, stepping over the river of sludge toward the waiting fighter. Ironically, the ice-cold shower had amped up the effect of the stims, making him feel nearly invincible.

“Ya think?” said Ruby, taking a packet of gum from her top pocket and using her lips to pull a single strip into her mouth.

“You do realize that if we get out of this alive, I will get you back for that?” said Hallam, stepping onto the rear ramp of the ship. The statement hadn’t come across in a threatening manner, nor had Hallam intended it in that way. He was just giving Ruby fair warning that they were far from even.

“If we get out of this alive, I’d like to see you try, tanker man,” said Ruby, blowing out a purple bubble and sashaying past Hallam into the cargo hold. She turned to face him and the gum bubble burst. “Now let’s go and rescue our boss.”

“Wait, I just remembered that I still need one more thing,” said Hallam, looking around compound for the renegade that he’d spoken to earlier. He then saw the man running in his direction. Ruby scowled and waited at the top of the ramp, arms folded again, as the renegade arrived and handed Hallam a little stuffed teddy bear. Hallam thanked the man then turned and held up Bob the bear for Ruby to see. “Now we can go,” he said.

Ruby shook her head. “You and Dakota are made for each other,” she said, blowing out another bubble. “Now can you both get on board so we can leave?”

13

Cad stepped down the rear ramp of his fighter and into the driving rain of Damien Doyle’s rogue world. He stared up at the swirling dark clouds, frequently lit up from the inside by flashes of lightning. He sighed then peered down at the mud at the foot of the ramp. He already hated the place, but so long as Dakota Wulfrun was still inside the top-secret complex, he didn’t care how wet and muddy he got.

On the advice of the installation’s commanding officer, a humorless woman called Major Alice Graves, Cad and Draga had landed only a few meters from the secret complex. This was in order to reduce the chances that they would encounter the planet’s native apex predators. The description of these reptilian beasts had not frightened Cad in the slightest. In fact, it had only served to pique his interest further. He was curious to see one of these supposedly formidable creatures up close, and to perhaps even have the opportunity to hunt one.

Draga’s ramp lowered a few seconds later, and Cad stepped out to meet her, his boots squelching in the thick mud surrounding the complex. Now that he was out in the open, he could see bodies lying in puddles underneath the raised-up outpost blocks. There were also at least a dozen prehistoric-looking creatures further out into the deforested area surrounding the installation. Claw marks were visible across the surfaces of some of the structures, and the autocannons still whirred above him, prowling the terrain for more of the creatures that had torn the enforcers to shreds.

“I like this place,” said Draga, allowing the rain to wash over her face, which was then brightly illuminated by a flash of lightning. Curiously, despite the floods of water flowing over Draga’s skin, her lightning-strike eyeliner had not run.

Cad allowed the sonorous rumble of thunder that followed the lightning strike to subside before answering. “You can’t be serious? This place is dark, even for you.”

Draga turned her head slightly and Cad was sure he saw her eyebrow raise up a fraction. “That was a joke,” she said, so dryly that the water streaming down her face might have evaporated. “I already hate this miserable planet. Let’s deal with Wulfrun quickly so we can leave.”

Cad snorted a laugh and invited Draga to take the lead, following her across the mud to a ramp that led up to one of the outpost blocks on the edge of the complex. A shuttered door was already rolled up, and a CSF enforcer wearing major’s rank insignia was waiting inside, flanked by another enforcer in full combat armor. Draga entered the block first and took up position to the side of the major, towering over both her and the enforcer. The major observed Draga nervously out of the corner of her eye. Water ran off Draga’s armor and began to form a puddle around the major’s feet. Draga then wiped the rain from her face and flicked it across the armored enforcer. However, the man did not react and kept his eyes fixed dead ahead. Cad smiled, realizing that Draga’s fearsome reputation even extended to the unknown regions of the galaxy. Cad then ducked under the shutter and stopped briefly to kick the mud off his boots, tutting as he did so. Once he fully moved over the threshold, the armored enforcer moved to a control panel and hit a button, causing the shutter door to rapidly roll down.

“I’m afraid we can’t be too careful at the moment,” Major Graves said. “The predatory creatures on this world took advantage of the distraction that followed the renegade incursion. In the confusion, we lost two-thirds of our enforcers.” The shutter then thudded into the deck, and the major’s stance immediately relaxed. “The radiation leak then took out several more of my men. I’m afraid that myself and three other enforcers are all who remain, until reinforcements arrive.”

Cad’s eyes narrowed, and he noticed that Draga’s had also. “I assume that this radiation leak is now under control, Major?”

“Yes, it is fully contained, of course,” Major Greig replied, sounding a little affronted by the question. “We had to seal off Sector A2 and Sector A3 while the decontamination compound does its work. But the rest of the complex is safe.”

Cad nodded, feeling relieved that Doyle hadn’t knowingly sent him to a radioactive hot spot to get cooked, along with the enforcers that had apparently already perished. He waited for the major to lead them to Dakota Wulfrun, but it was clear the officer was still a little shell-shocked.

“Can we see the prisoner now?” said Cad, trying to prompt Graves into action. “We’re on a tight schedule.” The last part was a lie, but Cad shared Draga’s desire to leave the wretched planet as soon as possible.

“Of course. Mr. Doyle has instructed that we give you every assistance, so please follow me,” said Major Graves. She then led Cad and Draga through the main operations center at the heart of the complex and into Sector D. Cad peered around the space, which was filled with metal crates and stacks of wooden boxes, all with the words “Bridge World 13: Top Secret” written on the side. Then he saw Dakota Wulfrun, bound to a chair in the center of the room, with two enforcers standing rigidly at her side. Her right eye and lips were swollen, and dried blood was visible on her chin and flight suit.

“I’m afraid she has not been cooperative so far,” Graves said, stopping in front of Dakota and pressing her hands to the small of her back. “However, I am reliably informed that extracting information is one of your specialties, Mr. Rikkard.”

Draga stepped forward and stood beside Dakota. The two other enforcers backed away to give her space as she peered down at the renegade, while slowly removing her armored gauntlets. Dakota stared back at Draga, but Cad saw no fear in the renegade’s eyes. There was only a burning resentment.

“You can leave us now, Major Graves,” said Cad without taking his eyes off Dakota Wulfrun. Graves looked surprised to be asked to leave, and her mouth opened as if ready to protest. However, Draga simply turned her penetrating gaze to the major instead, and the officer’s mouth snapped shut like a bear trap.

“Of course, let me know if I can be of assistance,” Major Graves eventually replied. She then signaled for the three CSF heavies to leave and followed them along the corridor to the command center.

“I was wondering when Doyle would summon you two comedians to do his dirty work for him,” said Dakota, looking at Cad directly. “I’m surprised the third member of your cohort isn’t here. Or is she still recovering after her little trip on Fortuna?”

Draga smashed her fist into the side of Dakota’s face as she said this, with a force that almost toppled the chair over. Had she not have previously removed her gauntlets, the blow quite possibly would have killed the renegade.

“You’re fortunate that it was your idiot partner that injured Alexis, Wulfrun, or we would now be having a very different conversation,” said Cad. He then rested a hand on the pommel of his Black Prince sword and took a step closer. “As it is, the more exquisite moments of your torture will wait until we also have Knight in our possession. I wouldn’t want him to miss your suffering.”

Dakota laughed and spat a glob of blood-stained saliva onto the deck. “If you believe I’ll tell you anything, then you’re a bigger clown than I already think you are.”

Cad leant in closer to Dakota’s bruised and swollen face, bringing their eyes level. “And if you believe you’re the first to tell me that, then you’re naïve as well as foolish,” he replied with a matching level of resolve. “Everyone is brave and defiant in the beginning, just like you. But they all talk in the end. Just as you will.”

Dakota snorted and shook her head. “Big words from someone who is basically Damien Doyle’s hired thug. You think you’re special, but you’re just a bully who doesn’t care about anyone other than himself.”

Cad smiled and raised to his full height again. “You don’t know anything, renegade,” he said, moving over to a crate that appeared to have Dakota’s personal effects laid out on top of it. He picked up a circular black communications disc and inspected it idly. “I don’t care about Doyle or why he wants Rand. And I don’t care about your little crusade to stop bridge travel either.” Cad then walked around the rear of Dakota’s chair before stopping in front of her again. Straight away, he saw the renegade’s eyes drop to the item in his hand. Cad observed the involuntarily dilation of Dakota’s pupils and smiled, realizing that the object was of some importance.

“So this is just about personal revenge, is it?” said Dakota, her eyes flicking back to Cad’s. “That seems a bit petty for a man of your repute, don’t you think?”

“Once again, you misunderstand,” Cad spat. “Every action has a reaction,” he continued, patting the black disc against the palm of his hand in order to draw Dakota’s attention to it again. “Your actions have caused my reputation to suffer. Your actions have hurt someone who I respect. These actions need to be corrected, in order to restore the proper order of things.” Cad flipped the disc into the air like tossing a coin, watching Dakota’s eyes follow it up and down, until it landed back into his hand again.

Dakota snorted another laugh. “You’re even more insane than Doyle is. No wonder he likes you.”

No sooner had the words escaped Dakota’s lips than Draga had punched the renegade across the side of the face. Again, the blow almost toppled Dakota and the chair over onto the floor.

“You will suffer for you part in this, but Knight will suffer more for harming Alexis,” said Cad, managing to keep a lid on his anger. He didn’t want the renegade to see that she was getting to him. “That is not revenge. That is natural justice,” he added.

Draga struck the renegade with another hammer blow before Dakota had chance to respond. This time, the chair did topple over, and Dakota let out a yelp of pain as her shoulder was crushed under the weight of the fall. Draga allowed Dakota to writhe in agony for a few seconds, then reached over and hauled the chair back onto four legs. Dakota’s head lolled back and forth as she did so, her eyes glassy and distant.

Suddenly, the door to the adjoining corridor opened and a slightly frazzled-looking Major Graves burst in. “Apologies for the interruption, but we have detected two renegade fighter craft en route to the planet,” the major blurted out. “They are making no attempt at stealth. I have prepared our SAM batteries to intercept and destroy them. I just wanted to make you aware.”

Cad glanced to Dakota to gauge her reaction and saw that her defiant expression had given way to one of deep apprehension. He then turned back to Major Graves. “No, you are not to attack,” he said with authority, making the major practically snap to attention. “Disable your defense grid and make it look as though the complex is damaged and offline.”

Graves frowned. “Is that wise? They could destroy the facility.”

“They won’t; they’re coming for her,” said Cad, confidently pointing at Dakota. “Disable the grid and allow them to land. Then seal all the corridors, except one that leads into this room. And leave a shutter door partially open so that the renegades can easily get inside.”

Graves again hesitated, but another glower from Draga Vex convinced her to bite her tongue. “As you wish, Mr. Rikkard,” said Graves grudgingly before turning back along the corridor.

“They won’t fall for your trap,” said Dakota, but Cad could hear the doubt in her voice.

“Whether they believe it to be a trap or not, they will come,” replied Cad. “And you know it.”

“And then what?” said Dakota with more bite. “If you kill us and stop Dr. Rand, like Doyle wants, soon there won’t be anyone left for you to murder and extort.”

This time, it was Cad who laughed. “You put too much stock in this scientist friend of yours,” he hit back, mocking the renegade. “But even if Doyle’s empire crumbles, there will still be a need for people like me.”

Dakota sighed and shook her head. “You’re a fool. There will be nothing left but death and chaos.”

Cad stood tall, tightening his grip on the pommel of his sword. “If chaos is to rule, then I’ll be its king,” he said, imperiously. “And you, and your pathetic band of renegades, will be part of the ash beneath my throne.”

14

Hallam peered up at the rain clattering onto the cockpit glass as the whine of the renegade fighter’s engines subsided. The sky of the rogue world was a touch brighter than he remembered, though not by much. The powerful storm that had raged in the depressing world when he and Dakota had assaulted the Consortium complex had moved on. However frequent flashes of lightning and crashes of thunder suggested another was quickly moving in. Hallam then peered out at the collection of outpost blocks and a shiver ran down his spine. This wasn’t because of the reptilian monsters he knew still lurked out in the darkness, but because of the two other fighters that sat outside in the rain and mud. Doyle’s secret planet now harbored a threat even greater than the predatory creatures that stalked the swamplands. The Blackfire Squadron was already here, and Hallam knew that Cad Rikkard was waiting for him inside the secret complex.

“I don’t like this at all,” said Ruby, unclipping her harness and peering out through the rain-smeared glass alongside Hallam. “Was this place so badly damaged when you left here?”

Hallam thought for a moment, trying to cast his mind back to those events, but everything had happened so fast and it was still a blur.

“I don’t think so, but the creatures I told you about were moving in fast,” Hallam answered, spotting several of the reptilian beasts lying dead in the mud. “Maybe they overwhelmed the complex and this is how it was left in the aftermath.”

Ruby squeezed past Hallam and began moving toward the compact rear cargo hold. “Well, those two Blackfire Squadron fighters says that Cad Rikkard and at least one other of those asshats are now here,” said Ruby, taking a pistol and a spare magazine out of the weapons locker.

Hallam listened to Ruby while continuing to watch the complex for any signs of life. Everything about their arrival, from the inexplicably disabled defense grid, to the lack of radio communications, felt off. Even the installation’s probing searchlights and autocannons hadn’t tracked them as they’d approached. Hallam knew it had to be a trap, but why Cad Rikkard was going to such great lengths to lure them inside the complex made no sense. I won’t get any answers skulking around in here… Hallam told himself, pushing himself out of the second seat and joining Ruby in the cargo area.

“We’re going to need more than pistols to stop Cad Rikkard,” said Hallam, pointing to the weapon in Ruby’s holster. “His armor could probably stop a cannon round, never mind a bullet from that pea-shooter. I don’t suppose you have anything on this ship with a bit more punch?”

“Only my fists,” said Ruby while blowing an orange bubble in Hallam’s face.

Hallam snorted. “You’re welcome to test that boast in the ring once we’re all back at the hideout,” he said before the gum bubble burst, filling his nostrils with an overpowering, fake citrus fruit scent.

Ruby then wrapped her knuckles onto another locker door. “You’re welcome to use what’s in there, if you like,” she said.

Hallam scowled at Ruby as she moved over to the control panel at the aft of the fighter. He then opened the locker and snorted a laugh. Inside was an antique sawed-off double-barreled shotgun, plus a box of twelve-gauge cartridges.

“What the hell are you doing with this beast?” asked Hallam, picking up the hefty weapon. It looked like something designed to fight off a zombie apocalypse or hold up a bank. “Do you have a side-gig as a gangster or something?”

Ruby let out a fake laugh and hit the button to lower the ramp. “It’s useful in close-quarters situations, but I hate having to reload it so often. Feel free to use it if you want.”

Hallam wished he’d had the weapon the last time he was on the planet, when he’d had a reptilian beast snarling in his face. He grabbed a few fistfuls of cartridges, shoving them into his pockets, then loaded the weapon and moved up to Ruby’s side. The ramp was slowly whirring open, allowing the howling wind and icy rain to blow inside.

“You know this is a trap, right?” said Hallam, glancing over at Ruby, who had pulled on a heavy-duty jacket.

“Yeah, I know,” she replied casually.

“Cad Rikkard will be waiting for us inside that complex, probably with half a dozen enforcers,” Hallam added, wondering if this might produce a less aloof reaction from the second member of the Wolf Squadron.

“Yep, probably,” said Ruby, still seemingly unconcerned.

The ramp splatted into the mud and they both began to step down it, weapons raised and eyes keenly surveying the surrounding landscape.

“And you remember me mentioning the killer reptilian monsters, right?” Hallam tried again.

“What are you asking, tanker man?” said Ruby. She attempted to blow another gum bubble, but the rain burst it before it had even grown to the size of a plum.

“My point is, I’m hoping you have a plan,” said Hallam, jumping down into the mud and looking out toward the complex. The hole he’d cut open in Sector A3 in order to escape had been plugged, but the bodies of several CSF heavies and reptilian creatures still littered the ground underneath the complex.

Ruby held up a small satchel. “Just point out where the main ops center is and I’ll show you my idea of a plan,” she said, tossing the strap of the satchel over her head.

Hallam had a pretty good idea what Ruby had in mind, and ordinarily, he would have cautioned against it. However, on this occasion, there was no room for subtlety. They were outgunned and outnumbered, and walking into a trap. They had to even the odds, and if he was correct about what Ruby was planning, it would certainly give them the element of surprise.

“Let’s just make sure Dak isn’t in there before you decide to blow this place to hell,” said Hallam, stepping past one of the dead creatures while covering it with the shotgun, in case it was merely playing possum.

“This place is already in hell,” replied Ruby.

For once, Hallam couldn’t argue with Ruby’s assessment, and so continued to stalk ahead. He was at least grateful to be shielded from the rain by the outpost blocks raised on stilts above him. Hallam them stopped underneath the central section of the complex and looked up at the rusted metal surface of one of the outpost blocks.

“Attach the charges to these points,” said Hallam, pointing to four locations on the underside of the structure. “If we enter the complex through the southeast shutter and make our way toward the command center from the opposite side, we limit the chance of blowing ourselves up too.”

Ruby peered up at the points Hallam had highlighted and set the satchel down in the mud. “How do you know that there are explosive charges in this bag?” she asked while undoing the fastener.

“Just a hunch,” said Hallam, continuing to vigilantly sweep the barrel of the shotgun in wide arcs to make sure nothing was prowling toward them. “From what I’ve heard, gum bubbles aren’t the only thing you like to blow up.”

Ruby snorted then removed an explosive charge from the satchel. “Guilty…” she said, waving the device at Hallam.

Ruby Rivas attached the charges to the points Hallam had indicated, jumping up and locking the devices in place with magnetic clamps. She then returned to the bag and removed a wrist strap, which she slid on over the top of her renegade armor. “Remote detonator,” she said, noticing that Hallam was squinting in the gloom, trying to make out what the device was.

Hallam nodded then went over the hastily-concocted plan in his head, in case they’d missed anything. However, there wasn’t much to review. They were flying by the seat of their pants, as usual. “It’s not much of a plan, but I think we’re all set,” he said to Ruby. “With any luck, Rikkard will just assume we’ve walked blindly into his little trap and not suspect we have an ace up our sleeve.”

“Or a bomb…” said Ruby, tapping the remote detonator. Hallam’s heart fluttered, half-expecting the charges to detonate as she did so.

The two renegades then moved swiftly to the southeast entrance and crept up the ramp toward the shuttered entrance. Hallam saw that the shutter was partially rolled open. It wasn’t by much, and certainly not enough to allow one of the reptilian creatures inside. However, the gap was conveniently wide enough for them both to slide underneath.

“Now we know for sure this is a trap,” Ruby snorted. “They’ve even left the damn door open for us. I’m surprised there isn’t a ‘Welcome’ mat too.”

Hallam should have been surprised at how blatantly the trap had been laid out, but he also knew that Cad Rikkard considered him to be little more than intellectual pond scum. It was insulting, but it might also work to their advantage, Hallam realized.

“Then it’s a good job you’ve prepared a special kind of welcome for them already,” said Hallam, rolling underneath the shutter and sweeping the room with the shotgun. It was empty, but Hallam could see muddy footprints on the deck, some of which had only partially dried. “Judging by these prints, I don’t think Rikkard has been here all that long,” he whispered to Ruby as she also rolled underneath the shutter. “Maybe we’re in with a chance of finding Dak after all.”

Hallam continued in the lead, aiming the double-barreled shotgun along the corridors and around the corners, constantly wary of an ambush, but the complex remained deathly still and quiet. The only sounds he could hear were the soft clomp of his and Ruby’s boots, the shallow and rapid rasp of his own breath, and the rain hammering down on the metal ceiling of the outpost blocks.

“They’re funneling us toward the command center,” said Hallam, trying one of the other connecting doors, but finding it to be sealed up tightly. “Make sure you’re ready…”

“Don’t worry about me, tanker man,” replied Ruby as they reached the door to the command center. It too was open, but the lights inside were out.

Hallam glanced back to Ruby. “Ready?” he whispered. Ruby nodded and Hallam grabbed the edge of the door, heaving it open. They both moved inside, taking cover behind nearby workstations, and immediately, the door slammed shut behind them. Hallam cursed as the lights inside the command center blinked on. Then three armor-clad enforcers sprang up across the opposite side of the command center, aiming rifles toward where Hallam and Ruby had ducked into cover,

“Drop your weapons!” one of the enforcers barked. “And get down on the ground!”

Hallam stayed low, tightening his hold on the shotgun. However, he also knew that at his current range, a blast from the weapon would only serve to irritate the enforcers. He needed to get closer.

“Not going to happen, assholes!” Ruby cried back before Hallam could respond with a slightly less antagonistic rebuttal. “Give us back our pilot, and no one gets hurt.”

The door directly opposite to the one Hallam and Ruby had entered through then slid open. Hallam’s gut tightened as he saw the figure of Cad Rikkard stride through like a Roman general, followed by a female CSF enforcer, whose posture and gait were far less assured. Hallam could also see Draga Vex lurking in the shadows behind them both, holding a combat shotgun that put Hallam’s shorty to shame.

“Thank you for saving me the effort of hunting you down,” said Cad smoothly. The mercenary then drew his medieval Black Prince sword and aimed the tip of the blade directly at Hallam. “And thank you for bringing your other meddlesome partner too,” he added, adjusting his aim to point the sword at Ruby. “Now I get to torture and kill all three members of Rand’s little Wolf Squadron.”

15

Hallam Knight wasn’t interested in playing Cad Rikkard’s games or pandering to his already over-inflated ego. And while he would never underestimate the mercenary’s abilities or determination, on this occasion, he hoped that Cad’s unshakable confidence in his own superiority would work to Hallam’s advantage. Cad appeared to believe that Hallam and Ruby had walked unwittingly into the mercenary’s trap, like sheep being herded into a pen by a wily old dog. The mercenary’s dirt-level opinion of the Darkspace Renegades wouldn’t allow Cad to even entertain the notion that Hallam had a plan of his own. This, for once, gave Hallam the edge.

“Just give us Dakota, and we’ll be out of your hair, Rikkard,” said Hallam, getting straight to the point. He knew the mercenary would refuse, but he wanted to buy a little time and hopefully learn more about Dakota’s condition and whereabouts. “No one else has to die,” he added.

Cad Rikkard laughed scornfully. “Surely you realize that there’s no version of this situation where any of you leave alive?” replied the mercenary, clearly insulted that Hallam would even suggest such a possibility. “Your only choice is how quickly I end your miserable lives and how much suffering you’re prepared to let your precious Dakota Wulfrun endure.” Cad took another step into the room and lifted his sword, admiring the blade like a fine work of art. “Resist or attempt to run, and Draga will carve your friend up like a roast, slowly and painfully.”

“I have a better idea,” Ruby called out, and Hallam braced himself, fully expecting whatever came out of her mouth to be incendiary. “Why don’t you shove that sword up your ass and waddle out of here with your freak partner before things get ugly?”

Cad’s jaw clenched and he aimed the tip of the sword to where Ruby was hiding. “Just for that, I’ll torture that gum-chewing fool too.” Then Cad met Hallam’s eyes. “I’ll force you to endure her agony as acutely as if it were your own and leave your suffering until the end.” Then Cad sheathed the sword and extended a hand toward the deck of the command center. “So, for once, be smart, renegade. Throw down your weapon, get on your knees before me, and you have my word of honor that your deaths will be swift.”

Hallam laughed out loud, immediately causing Cad’s eyes to narrow and his jaw to tighten like a vise. His word of honor… Hallam repeated in his mind. The sheer arrogance and self-importance of the man was staggering, Hallam thought. The mercenary likened himself to some sort of medieval knight, except the only cause that Cad Rikkard fought for was his own. He had winced at Ruby’s crude insult to Cad earlier, but now he couldn’t contain himself either.

“You know what, Rikkard, I’ve got a much better idea,” said Hallam, glancing over to Ruby, who had her hand poised over the detonator. “How about instead of all that great stuff you said, you just kiss my ass?”

Cad’s face flushed red, and he again reached for his sword, but Ruby had already triggered the detonator before the mercenary’s hand had touched the grip. The command center was shaken by a ripple of focused explosions, which rocked the deck like an earthquake. Sections of the floor collapsed above where Ruby had planted the charges, swallowing up the female CSF enforcer and the three heavies like quicksand.

The blast had also shaken Hallam to the deck, and he pushed himself up, desperately trying to spot Cad through the smoke. Staggering further into the room with the shotgun held ready, he peered through the holes in the deck and saw the mercenary lying in the rubble beneath the complex. He’d landed on top of the female enforcer, the weight of his iridescent black power armor squashing her face into the mud up to her ears. However, although Cad was stunned, Hallam could see that he was still conscious.

“Hallam, hurry!” Ruby called out, rushing ahead of him. The room began to rock and sway as she moved, as if the stilts that were holding up the complex were on the verge of snapping. Hallam followed, weaving a chaotic path through what remained of the command center. He made it to the corridor on the opposite side shortly after Ruby, but then saw a figure blocking their path. Hallam cursed and brandished the shotgun. In the confusion, he’d forgotten about Draga Vex. The mercenary had been blown back along the corridor, but was now getting to her feet. And she looked even more furious than normal.

Ruby reacted quickest, raising her pistol and firing, but the mercenary was alert to the danger and turned her back, huddling into a ball. Ruby continued to fire until her magazine was empty, but Draga’s armor deflected each shot, sending the bullets ricocheting off the walls like pinballs bouncing off bumpers.

“Ruby, get back!” Hallam called, trying to aim the shotgun around her, but Ruby was blocking his aim. Releasing the empty magazine, Ruby quickly slapped in another, but this was all the time Draga needed to pounce. Grabbing a fistful of the renegade’s jacket, Draga twisted her body and flung Ruby into the room to their rear. Hallam saw Ruby rag-doll across the deck and collide with a stack of metal boxes and containers, causing some of them to fall on top of her. She came to rest in a crumpled heap, but Hallam couldn’t tell if she was alive or dead.

Unsure whether the mercenary had seen the sawed-off shotgun, Hallam hid the weapon behind his back, looking to surprise Draga. Satisfied that Ruby was down, at least for moment, the mercenary then turned to face Hallam, eyes burning with rage.

“There’s no escaping this time, renegade,” Draga snarled. “I’m going to make this last as long as I can, or as long as you can hold out.”

Stepping forward, Draga swung at Hallam’s face, but his boxing instincts allowed him to dodge back at the last second. The mercenary’s fist went straight through the wall. Draga tried to pull it clear, but the mangled metal had become caught up in her armor. Seizing his chance, Hallam pulled out the shotgun and aimed it at Draga’s chest. Draga saw the weapon then glared into Hallam’s eyes, giving him a closer look at the mercenary’s unique lightning strike eyeliner than he ever wished to see. However, he had no intention of staring into Draga’s dark eyes any longer than was necessary. He squeezed the trigger of the shotgun at the precise moment the mercenary managed to haul her fist clear of the wall, literally giving her both barrels.

The recoil knocked Hallam off his feet, but the impact of two twelve-gauge shotgun blasts at point-blank range also sent Draga skidding along the corridor. Hallam dragged himself to his feet and saw that the mercenary was still down. Smoke rising from the buckled section of her chest plate that had absorbed the shotgun blast. Hallam moved ahead, sidestepping cautiously past the prone body of Draga Vex. The mercenary’s eyes were closed, revealing dish-shaped black circles that made her look as soulless as she acted.

The sound of boxes tumbling onto the deck then drew Hallam’s attention to the nearby room. Ruby Rivas was now on her knees, hands clasped around her head, blood trickling through her fingers.

“Ruby, are you okay?” said Hallam, dropping down beside her.

“I think so,” said Ruby, allowing Hallam to help her to her feet. “That merc armor gives them freakish strength.” Then she looked around the room, blinking away blood that was dripping into her eyes. “Where are those sadistic assholes anyway?”

“Cad fell through the deck, but I think he’s alive,” replied Hallam, glancing back along the corridor. “And Draga is down, maybe dead, I don’t know,” he added, watching the mercenary for any signs of movement, but Draga’s body remained motionless. Hallam then quickly scanned the new room they were in. He recognized it as the one where Dakota had held off the Enforcers before she had been captured. Turning back to Ruby, he said, “Where’s Dak? Have you seen her?”

Ruby shook her head gingerly. “I think the fall put me out cold for a moment,” she said as they both moved further into the room, splitting up to search the area more quickly. The complex continued to rock and sway from side to side, as if it were an old, rotten seafront pier on the verge of collapse.

“We need to find her soon, before this whole damn complex falls apart,” said Hallam, moving around a tall stack of crates. Then he saw Dakota, tied to a chair. “She’s here!” he called out, bringing Ruby Rivas running.

Hallam pulled the gag out of Dakota’s mouth, scowling at her swollen, battered eyes and lips. “Dak, it’s Hallam. Can you move?” Hallam cried, trying not to react too strongly to the injuries, but anger was already swelling inside him.

“Hallam?” whispered Dakota, struggling to open her eyes.

“It’s me,” replied Hallam, smoothing the blood-soaked hair from Dakota’s face. “Me and Ruby are going to get you out of here.”

Ruby dropped to her knees beside the chair and worked furiously to free the bindings around Dakota’s wrists and ankles, while also glowering up at her injuries. Pausing briefly from wrestling with the ropes, Ruby removed an injector from her jacket pocket and held it up to Hallam. “Hit her with this,” she said, pressing the stim into Hallam’s hand.

Hallam winced and held the device to Dakota’s neck. It hissed, delivering a triple dose of the powerful stimulant. “She’s going to be pretty hacked off when she finds out I stimmed her,” he grumbled. “There was enough in that injector to get one of the reptilian beasts doing cartwheels.”

“I reckon she’ll forgive you.” Ruby smiled back.

Dakota became suddenly alert as the drugs flowed into her blood stream. It was like the chair had just been electrified. “What the hell are you two doing here?” she cried as Ruby managed to free her hands.

“What the hell do you think we’re doing?” said Hallam, almost laughing.

“They’re using me to get to you,” Dakota hit back. “You have to get out of here!”

“Yeah, boss, we figured that part out already,” said Ruby, releasing the ropes around Dakota’s legs. “Come on, my ship is just outside.”

Hallam and Ruby pulled Dakota up, and together they staggered toward the exit. However, they’d only made it a few paces before Hallam saw the figure of Cad Rikkard standing in the doorway. The mercenary’s face and armor were caked in mud, and blood trickled from his ear, mixing with the grey-green slime to create a sickly sludge.

“I take it back,” snarled Cad, taking a step toward Hallam, fists clenched. “I’m not going to kill you slowly.” Then he pointed to Hallam, and added, “I’m going to tear you to shreds with my bear hands then rip your friends apart, piece by piece.”

Hallam broke open the barrel of the shotgun and frantically fumbled in his pocket for the cartridges, while Ruby opened fire with her pistol. Cad ducked, shielding his head as the bullets deflected off the mercenary’s armor. Ruby’s weapon again clicked empty, but not before Cad had roared in pain. Two of the bullets had penetrated his metal shell and were embedded in his left arm and shoulder. Cad plucked out the bullets, tossing them to the deck as blood began to leak through the holes. Hallam finished shoving the cartridges into the chamber, snapping the weapon shut and lifting it toward Cad. However, he’d barely raised the weapon by a few inches before Cad’s armored hand closed around the barrel and pushed it aside. The shotgun fired and the recoil threw Hallam and Cad into a tall metal container, toppling both it and them to the deck with a thunderous crash.

Hallam rolled aside, barely evading Cad’s fist as it smashed into the area where his head had been only moments earlier. Cad’s wild strike shattered open the container, causing a plume of white mist to rapidly rise from it like steam from a geyser. However, as Cad pulled himself up, using the container for support, Hallam could see ice-crystals forming on his metal armor. A second later, an alarm blared out through the PA system.

“Warning, alien containment breach in Sector D. Lockdown initiated. All personnel must evacuate immediately. Twenty minutes until automatic self-destruct.”

Heavy shutters thudded down across all three doors leading out of the room. Hallam cursed, realizing they were trapped. He then turned back to the container, the contents of which were now glowing ominously.

“Don’t worry, you’ll be dead long before this place blows up, Knight,” said Cad, stepping through the vapor with fists still clenched.

Hallam and the others backed away, but in the tussle with Cad, Hallam had dropped his shotgun, and Ruby was already out of ammo. They had nothing to fight with and no way of getting out.

Suddenly, a shape rose from the mist that was still billowing out of the metal container. All eyes turned to it, except those of Cad Rikkard, who continued to stare at the renegades with brutal intent. Hallam backed away, his own gaze flicking from the mercenary to the object behind him, until the vapor finally dissipated and the identity of the shape was revealed. Hallam froze, scarcely able to believe what he was seeing. The shape of the machine was unlike anything Hallam had seen before. Its limbs were in different proportions. Short, powerful-looking legs attached to a long torso, with claw-tipped arms that draped almost to the deck, giving it more the appearance of an animal than a man. And while it appeared to be a warbot in everything other than name, this machine had clearly not been designed or built by human hands.

The strident thrum of the warbot’s power core finally reached Cad Rikkard’s ears, which had been deafened by rage. The mercenary turned to see the colossal machine towering over him. A single, glowing blue slit in its cranial unit peered down at the mercenary. The normally unflappable leader of the Blackfire Squadron then shoved the machine away, in what was seemingly an act of pure spontaneity. The alien warbot staggered back, moving with an organic fluidity that no human-built machine had ever attained. Its blue vee-shaped eye then focused on Cad before the machine uttered a complex and indecipherable warble of sounds that were alien to Hallam’s ears. However, while Hallam stood dumbstruck before the machine, Cad Rikkard’s instincts were to attack.

Cad drew his pistol and fired at the machine, aiming first at its chest and then at its cranial unit. The alien warbot backed away, raising its huge claws to shield its eye. The bullets deflected off the machine’s metal shell, resisting the impacts in a similar manner to Cad’s own armor. When the mercenary’s weapon finally clicked empty, the machine was undamaged. Then its blue eye again turned to Cad, somehow appearing meaner and more intense than before. Its colossal, claw-like hands seized hold of Cad’s armor and lifted the mercenary into the air. Cad struggled against its hold, hammering his own armored fist down on the warbot’s cranial unit and shoulders. The force of Cad’s blows would have been enough to smash through any ordinary metal, but again the alien warbot appeared impervious. Without warning, the machine then surged forward, uttering more strident, alien sounds, and drove Cad into the wall, smashing them both through it as if it were no more substantial than an egg crate. The machine and the mercenary tumbled outside into the cold and rain, and landed in a crumpled heap in the mud.

Hallam had no time to process what had just happened, as the room suddenly dropped sharply downwards. Hallam held on to Dakota as they slid across the deck, narrowly avoiding other crates and boxes that tumbled and crashed into the sloping deck. The outpost block then hit the ground and split open at its seams, allowing the harsh environment of the rogue world to penetrate inside. Hallam and Ruby helped Dakota to her feet, but she was already looking much stronger.

“Warning, containment breach in Sector D. Lockdown failed. All personnel must evacuate immediately. Seventeen minutes until automatic self-destruct.”

Hallam peered through the gap in the wall, seeing the warbot and Cad Rikkard slowly getting to their feet, then turned back to the others.

“We make a run for it, right now,” said Hallam, beckoning Ruby and Dakota through the gap first. Hallam followed, sprinting across the mud. The complex continued to creak and groan, the remaining stilts wavering from side-to-side, but the structure stayed standing long enough for the renegades to reach Ruby’s ship. Hallam hammered the ramp release and helped Dakota inside, but morbid curiosity compelled him to stop and look back. Rising to its full height, the organic-looking warbot stood in the rain, its shimmering armor reflecting the flashes of lightning that continued to crackle overhead in a uniquely alien way. In front of the machine was Cad Rikkard, Black Prince sword in hand, its blade also reflecting the flashes of energy in the atmosphere with a similarly unearthly sparkle.

“Hallam, come on!” Ruby cried as Cad Rikkard briefly turned his gaze to him, the mercenary’s eyes rage-filled and resentful. If Cad survived the encounter with the alien machine that was sure to follow, Hallam knew it would not be the last he saw of the Blackfire Squadron. And the prospect of that filled him with dread.

Hallam turned away from the mercenary and dove inside the fighter, slamming the button to close the ramp.

“Ruby, go!” Hallam cried toward the cockpit as he wrapped his arms through some cargo netting, gripping the material tightly. The fighter lifted out of the mud and shot away from the alien complex with ferocious speed, forcing Hallam to exert all the strength he had remaining just to stop from being pinballed around the cargo hold. Soon the forces on his body subsided and Hallam relaxed, suddenly feeling drained and sickly again. The pounding in his head had returned, and bright spots danced in front of his eyes before his head lolled forward and he passed out.

16

Cad Rikkard watched as the renegade fighter soared into the darkness, and cursed Hallam Knight’s name into the cold, stormy sky. The alien warbot cocked its head toward the escaping vessel, the single line of blue light narrowing into a thin vee, like a curious frown. Then it turned its attention back to Cad and the vee sharpened.

“Get out of my way!” Cad snarled at the machine, raising his sword, ready to strike should the warbot attack him again. The machine answered, but it was again just a jumble of noises to Cad’s ears, some of which were pitched so high that he could barely hear them at all.

The renegade fighter engaged its main engines and streaked skyward, adding another thunderous boom to the still frequent crashes of thunder. Cad gritted his teeth and looked toward his own fighter, still parked in the mud on the other side of the now crippled complex. However, his path to it was blocked by the alien machine. Cad knew that every second he wasted on the ground was time that Hallam Knight slipped further out of his reach. He aimed the tip of the blade toward the alien contraption and began to circle around it. The warbot watched him carefully, matching his every step so that Cad was unable to slip past.

“What do you want from me!” Cad yelled, focusing on the blue slit of light, which seemed to be regarding him with equal interest. “Move out of the way!” he roared, growing more unsettled with each passing moment. Hallam Knight had somehow gotten the better of him again, and it was eating him up inside. And for reasons he couldn’t understand, the alien machine was standing in his way, preventing him from chasing down his quarry.

Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck the complex, generating a flash so bright that it forced Cad to look away. The near instant, deafening crack of thunder caused the machine to turn its blue eye to the sky. Piercing, frantic warbles escaped from its cranial unit, which jerked in all directions, as if the contraption were afraid. With the machine unexpectedly distracted, Cad saw his opening to attack. He dashed toward the machine and swung the blade with all his augmented might. However, the warbot seemed to sense Cad’s intentions and reacted with unfeasible speed, raising its arm to block the strike. The sharpness of the blade, combined with the ferocious power of the blow should have cleaved the machine’s arm clean off, but instead, the blade dug a few inches into the metal and became stuck.

The warbot peered at the sword, then its blue eye bent into a piercing arrowhead that was aimed directly at Cad. It pulled its arm closer to its body, dragging Cad through the mud along with it, as the mercenary desperately held on to his only weapon like a lifeline. The warbot uttered another unintelligible warble, this time deeper and more guttural. It then twisted its arm to expose the flat of the blade and hammered its claw-like fist down onto it. The sword broke as easily as if it were a piece of balsa wood, and Cad was cast backwards into the mud, still clutching one severed half of the weapon. He watched in utter disbelief as the machine pried the other half of the blade from its arm and tossed it into the mud as if it were nothing more than a thorn prick.

Cad scrambled away as the warbot bore down on him, its single blue eye fixed on him and its huge fist raised high. Cad lifted the severed half of the sword, trying to shield himself from the strike he expected to come at any moment, but then another boom split the air. However, this was not the crack of thunder or the roar or fighter engines. This was the savage report of Draga’s semi-automatic shotgun.

The machine turned sharply and Cad saw the female member of the Blackfire Squadron marching through the mud toward it, weapon raised. Draga fired again and again, striking the machine cleanly each time, but still it appeared only moderately damaged. Draga let out a roar like the guttural battle cry of a Roman legion charging into war and quickened her pace. With each step forward, she continued to fire, each blast from the shotgun landing true, until finally, the weapon was spent. The warbot’s circuits crackled and fizzled in the driving rain, but unbelievably, it remained standing.

“Why won’t you die!” Draga yelled at the machine, tossing the empty shotgun aside and dropping to her knees. She was gasping for breath, one hand clutched to her smashed chest armor. The warbot let out a short, resonant howl before lashing a fist at her. Draga raised her arms and managed to block the attack, but she was driven through the air, landing face first in a pool of grimy, grey-green swamp water.

The machine continued to peer out toward where Draga’s body lay in the mud. Its back was still turned to Cad and he could see thin wisps of smoke rising from its torso and cranial unit. It filled him with the faintest spark of hope that the machine could be defeated. Gritting his teeth, Cad switched the broken sword into a reverse grip and clambered to his knees. There was now no other option than to go all in and put everything on the line. If his attack failed, it didn’t matter – he was dead either way.

Mustering the maximum amount of power from his suit, Cad leapt into the air and soared toward the machine. The warbot turned a split-second too late to stop Cad from driving the broken blade between its cranial unit and shoulders. Cad roared a cry even more guttural than the one Draga had screamed into the stormy sky as he drove the blade deeper, eventually severing whatever connection linked the alien machine’s head to its body. The warbot toppled forward into the mud with Cad on top of it. He scrambled off the alien machine and pulled the blade clear before raising it again, ready to strike a second blow. However, the warbot remained motionless, energy crackling all across its body like sunlight sparkling on the sea. Crucially, the blue slit of light in its cranial unit had gone dark.

Cad breathed a heavy sigh of relief, sheathed what remained of the broken Black Prince sword, then ran to Draga. He slid to his knees in the murky pool where she lay, still partially submerged in the water, and flipped her onto her side. Draga convulsed and coughed up some of the dark sludge before jerking upright and peering back toward the alien machine with wild eyes.

“It’s dead or destroyed,” said Cad, still unsure of whether the machine he’d fought had simply been an automaton or a living thing. He hauled Draga to her feet, conscious that Knight was still getting away. “Can you walk? Knight and the others are escaping.”

“I can walk,” said Draga, still coughing violently.

Cad threw Draga’s arm around his neck and together they trudged through the mud toward their fighters. The creaks and groans from the consortium complex grew louder as it swayed violently in the wind, tipping further toward their fighters.

“Hurry; if the east wings collapse, it will bury the ships!” Cad called, driving Draga on harder, but it had become clear to him that she was badly hurt.

Ten meters from the fighters, Cad caught sight of a number of the creatures that he’d seen dead underneath the outpost blocks. Half a dozen of them were stalking closer, and that only accounted for the ones directly in his line of sight. Cad gritted his teeth and pushed on harder, practically carrying Draga the rest of the way. Resting her on the landing strut of his fighter, Cad activated the ramp and waited for it to lower while continuing to scan the perimeter for any more of the beasts. It didn’t take long for him to see other dark shapes moving in the distance, drawing closer by the second. Cad turned back to Draga, but she had gone, and for a moment, he panicked before spotting her by the rear ramp of her own fighter.

“Draga, leave it. You’re in no condition to fly,” Cad called over to Draga as the ramp of her fighter splatted into the mud.

“We need every ship,” Draga called back with a hard-headed firmness. “We will not get any others like them.”

Cad growled under his breath and cast his eyes back to the creatures, dozens of which were advancing rapidly.

“I’ll transmit rendezvous coordinates once we’re clear of the detonation,” Cad called back to her, realizing there was no time to argue, and that Draga would refuse his command to abandon her ship, no matter what he said.

Draga nodded and hauled herself inside the fighter, still coughing harshly. Cad ran inside his own ship, slamming the button to close the ramp before racing into the cockpit and powering up the engines. His consoles flashed into life and Cad saw that he had less than sixty seconds to get clear of the complex before the self-destruct failsafe turned it – and the Blackfire Squadron – to dust. Cad had initially not understood why Doyle would choose to destroy his priceless haul of alien artefacts. However, his brief encounter with the alien warbot had made him understand why. Whatever the alien machines were, they were not friendly or compliant. He understood why Doyle had experimented on them so far from the bridge worlds. If they had gotten loose on Vesta or any other planet, they would be near impossible to contain. Yet the prospect of taming one of the alien machines was worth the risk. With an army of such powerful weapons under his command, Doyle would have been unstoppable.

Cad pushed thoughts of the alien warbots from his mind and engaged the thruster. At the same moment, the stilts on the east side of the complex buckled, and the outpost block began toppling toward him. He increased power, pulling his fighter out of range just in time. However, glancing across to Draga’s vessel, he saw debris from the collapsing structure strike her main engine section. There was no time to assess what damage had been done – they had only seconds to escape.

Pushing the thruster control forward, Cad climbed then engaged the main engines at full throttle. The fierce acceleration threw his head back against the seat. Draga was still visible on Cad’s scanners, trailing a short distance behind. Then a blinding flash lit up the black sky, followed soon after by an intense blast that hit the ship like a tidal wave striking land. Alarms sounded and red lights flashed up on Cad’s damage control panel, but the ship surged on, and soon the vibrations subsided. Levelling off and silencing the alarms, Cad opened a channel to Draga’s ship.

“Draga, report your condition,” Cad barked, expecting to hear his companion’s clinically precise tones respond without delay, but there was only the crackle of static. “Draga, report!” Cad cried again, but still there was nothing. Then the icon identifying the second mercenary fighter blinked off his scanner, and Cad roared with frustration. Banking hard, he circled around toward the complex, which was now just a thick column of black smoke, hundreds of meters wide, rising steadily into the sky. However, there was more than just smoke rising into the turbulent atmosphere of the rogue world. High above the complex was a ripple of energy, like an aurora borealis, which cut through the clouds like a giant rainbow rising into space.

Several more warnings flashed onto Cad’s screen, and he read them quickly, each one layering on an additional level of danger. The planet’s gravity was in a state of flux. It was concentrated around the detonation site but steadily creeping wider. However, more concerning was the sudden sharp spike in Randenite radiation. Cad immediately engaged the fighter’s armor shields and pulled on his helmet, which was stowed above his seat. He read the scanner again, noting that the intensity of the radiation was already approaching dangerous levels, even at his altitude, and inside the protective shell of his fighter.

Suddenly, the ship began to shudder and become erratic as the gravitational flux intensified. He began to lose altitude at an astonishing rate, but Cad managed to wrestle with the controls and turn the ship away from the epicenter of the explosion. As his distance to the detonation site increased, Cad felt the ship start to respond normally again. He saw another plume of smoke rising from a clearing in the swampland, a few kilometers beyond the burning remains of the complex. Reducing velocity and dropping lower, Cad approached the column of smoke. His gut tightened as he realized that the smoke was emanating from the crashed remains of Draga Vex’s fighter.

17

Hallam woke to the shriek of alarms blaring out inside the cargo hold of Ruby’s fighter. His head was still throbbing and he tried to blink away the pain, but each shrill tone of the alarm was like a needle being pushed into his eyeballs.

“Hal, where are you!” Hallam heard a voice cry, but whether it was Ruby or Dakota, he couldn’t be sure. He untangled himself from the cargo netting and hauled his weary frame upright, but was then immediately knocked to his back as the fighter shuddered, as if it had been struck by an asteroid.

“Hal!” the cry came again, though this time, he could clearly discern it as Dakota’s voice.

“I’m here,” Hallam called back, again struggling to climb to his feet as more violent shudders rocked the ship. “What the hell is going on?”

Hallam made it into the cockpit and saw that they were travelling through bridge space. However, the swirling red borders that he was so used to seeing looked somehow wrong to his eyes, as if the fighter were almost constantly on the verge of dropping back into normal space.

“What’s wrong?” Hallam said, grabbing the back of Ruby’s seat to steady himself.

Dakota looked up at him from the second seat, and her brow immediately furrowed. “Damn it, Hal, you look worse than I do,” she said, though it was not meant as a joke, and Hallam didn’t laugh. The swelling on Dakota’s face had gone down, likely as a result of meds she’d taken while Hallam was out cold, but she still looked like she’d been through a war. For Dakota to imply that Hallam’s appearance was more beat-up than her own, he must have looked like death warmed up.

“I’m fine,” Hallam lied, “but I assume we won’t be soon. Is there something wrong with the Shelby Drive?”

“The drive system is fine,” said Ruby while continuing to battle with the ship’s controls. “It’s the bridge that’s collapsing.”

Ruby’s hands were clenched tightly around the control column, and Hallam could see that she was trying to vector the output from the Shelby Drive to adjust their trajectory through the bridge. He peered down at Ruby’s navigation computer and saw that the bridge was destabilizing rapidly, and that they were caught on the edge. It was like they were a bowling ball that had rolled off the lane and got trapped in the gutter. If they couldn’t pull the fighter out of this sub-dimensional groove, they’d eventually crash back into normal space. If that happened, the stresses would tear them apart, spreading their wreckage across a dozen light years.

“Have you thought about cutting the Randenite fuel supply to starve the Shelby Drive?” asked Hallam, trying to think through their options.

“That was the first thing we tried,” said Dakota, answering on behalf of Ruby, who was still all consumed with the task of piloting the ship. “But there’s some sort of power surge. It’s like the drive is drawing energy from the bridge itself.”

Hallam turned his head and coughed, rubbing his eyes. The effect of the drugs that Ruby had given him on Orcus had worn off, and he was feeling rough again.

“What about using our Darkspace interjector?” Hallam asked, turning back to face Dakota. “That could knock out the Shelby Drive and drop us back into normal space, right? I mean, that’s what the doc designed it to do, after all.”

However, Dakota didn’t appear to have been listening. Instead, she was peering at the pale, clammy skin of Hallam’s face, her bruised brow furrowed into a frown.

“Hal, what’s the matter?” Dakota said, her tone bordering on aggressive. “And don’t lie to me this time. You’re a lousy liar, and I can tell you’re not well.”

“Look, I got exposed to the alien tech in the complex for a little longer than I should have done, that’s all,” Hallam replied before coughing into his shoulder. In truth, he was worried too, but there was nothing anyone could do about his condition until they reached the hideout. “I’ll let the doc look me over once we get back, but first, we have to actually get back.”

Dakota’s frown remained, but she didn’t push Hallam further, and instead responded to his earlier suggestion. “The interjector could work, but it was designed to be deployed from within normal space,” Dakota said, as the ship was thudded from the side, forcing Hallam to clutch the back of the seat even more tightly.

“Sorry, my bad,” said Ruby, though it was delivered without her usual cocky swagger. Under normal circumstances, Hallam would have then expected a gum bubble to expand out of her mouth, but the fruity sphere was conspicuous by its absence. For Ruby to not be chewing gum meant things really were serious. “Though if you can figure something out quickly, that would be great. I can’t hold us here forever,” Ruby added.

Hallam rubbed his temples, partly because they were throbbing, but also in an effort to help him think. He had an idea, but he knew Dakota wouldn’t like it. He didn’t like it either, but in the absence of another suggestion, it might be their only shot.

“I can go into the engineering crawlspace and disable the interjector’s emitter array,” Hallam said, causing Dakota’s frown to deepen further. “That way, when we turn it on, the field effect will be localized around this ship.” Dakota nodded then unclipped her harness and tried to push her way past Hallam. “Hey, where the hell are you going?” said Hallam, stepping back to block Dakota’s path.

“I’m going to disable the emitter array, like you just said,” replied Dakota, managing to muscle her way through as the ship continued to shudder violently.

Hallam staggered after her, bouncing off the walls like he was drunk. “No way, Dak, you can’t handle the radiation,” he called after her as Dakota pulled open the hatch leading into the narrow crawlspace beneath the deck.

“It seems that neither can you,” Dakota hit back, sitting down and dropping her legs through the hatch, but Hallam hooked a hand under her arm to stop her from going any further.

“If I wasn’t resistant, then I’d have died back on the rogue world, along with the other CSF enforcers who got dosed,” said Hallam, kneeling so that his eyes were level with Dakota’s. “And besides, I’ve already been exposed, Dak. It makes no sense for you to get dosed too.”

Dakota shook her head. “There’s a good chance Dr. Rand can still help you, but if you get exposed again, it could tip you over the edge.”

Hallam held Dakota’s shoulders gently and waited for her to look into his eyes. “Look, Dak, it comes to this. If you go in there, you’re dead for sure. If I do it, I might still be able to survive.” Dakota looked away, clearly angry that logic did not favor her argument.

“Whatever you’re going to do, make it fast!” Ruby yelled back at them. “The bridge integrity is falling by the second. We may only have a couple of minutes, at most.”

Dakota cursed then slid her legs out of the hatch. “Fine, you go,” she snapped, not attempting to hide her anger. “But if you die down there, I’ll kill you.”

Hallam snorted a laugh. “And if I don’t die, then you’re buying the drinks back at the hideout.”

Dakota shook her head. “They’re free, dummy,” she said, though with a touch more warmth. “Now hurry up and get this done.”

“Yes, boss…” said Hallam, dropping down into the crawlspace and pulling the hatch closed behind him. Lights flickered on in the tunnel, and he immediately set to work, leopard-crawling through the narrow passageway toward the Shelby Drive section. The noise of the ship’s systems and the rattles and clatters reverberating through the hull seemed to be amplified tenfold. It was like standing next to a hammer drill without wearing ear-defenders.

Hallam reached the Shelby Drive and entered the access codes to unlock the protective shield doors enclosing the system. The Darkspace interjector was fed from the drive, and the only way to access it directly was from the inside. The usual automated warnings rang out inside the crawlspace, assaulting Hallam’s already fragile brain. He confirmed the command, and a secondary shield door dropped down behind him. He was forced to pull his feet up to avoid them being cut off at the ankle. Once the secondary radiation shield was in place, the main housing of the Shelby Drive was revealed.

“Hallam, in about one minute, we’re going get scrambled halfway across the galaxy,” said Ruby, her voice blaring out even louder than the warning message had done. “Tell me you’re ready…”

Hallam shuffled further toward the Shelby Drive housing, feeling the pulse of the alien-derived engine pounding through his body. “Almost!” he yelled back, nearly passing out from the pain that instantly shot through his temples. He stretched out his fingers and grabbed the cable connecting the interjector to the emitter unit that was fitted to the underside of the hull. Come on, damn it! Hallam cursed as his fingers struggled to gain purchase on the cable.

“Any time now!” Ruby cried out.

Hallam pressed out his toes and used the shield door to push himself forward by another inch. His face was now jammed up against the drive housing, making his already battered head feel like it was inside a potato masher. Then he finally managed to wrap his fingers around the cable and yank it back hard. It detached with a satisfying click.

“Do it, now!” Hallam yelled, pushing himself away from the drive housing and flopping down onto his belly.

The rising whine of the interjector system cut through Hallam like the wail of a banshee, and seconds later, the rhythmic pulse of the Shelby Drive vanished, plunging the crawlspace into silence. He felt a heavy thud, like someone slamming a car door. Then the rattles and shimmies that had been a persistent presence since he’d regained consciousness in the cargo hold were gone too.

Hallam turned onto his back, though even the effort of doing this was almost too much, and hit the control panel to re-establish the shield door around the Shelby Drive. The heavy metal panel slid down, and Hallam waited for the secondary shield to raise up so that he could crawl out again. However, for some reason, the door remained closed.

18

Hallam closed his eyes and let his body go limp. With the ship no longer being battered like a kettle drum, he allowed the comforting silence to wash over him. Then it was suddenly shattered again.

“Hal, you did it!” cried Dakota over the speaker, startling Hallam so that he jolted his head against the top of the crawlspace. However, like Hallam’s peace, the jubilance in her voice was also short-lived. There was another deathly pause before she asked, “Hal, are you okay?”

“I don’t feel any worse than I did before I crawled in here, if that’s what you mean,” replied Hallam. He then rubbed his head where he’d banged it, and added, “Well, not much worse anyway.”

“We got lucky,” said Dakota, though Hallam didn’t feel particularly lucky at that moment. He was still stuck in a crawlspace with his head less than a meter away from a radioactive sub-dimensional propulsion system. “The level of Randenite radiation in the crawlspace remained low,” Dakota continued more brightly. “I don’t know exactly why, but it could have had something to do with the drive feeding off the bridge, rather than from our Randenite fuel supply. Ruby had already shut the fuel valves, so there was very little Randenite still in the drive system.”

Hallam coughed and squirmed around the crawlspace, trying to redistribute his weight. He was already getting a tingling sensation in his feet from the constricted blood flow and was beginning to feel claustrophobic too.

“That’s great, Dak,” replied Hallam wearily. “Now, how about you get me out of here? The secondary shield door is still down.”

There was another awkward silence before Dakota responded. “I’m afraid the compartment is still flooded with radiation,” she said cagily. “It’s not a huge amount, but we need to run you through decontamination before the door will unlock.”

Hallam scowled. “Decontamination? What does that involve?” he said, feeling a sudden sense of foreboding.

“Just shut your eyes,” said Dakota, though her tone had altered again. It was almost like she was trying to stifle a laugh, Hallam thought. “Oh, and close your mouth too…”

“Close my mouth?” Hallam repeated. “Why the hell should I…” However, before Hallam had a chance to finish the sentence, a milky mist started to be pumped inside the sectioned-off crawlspace. Crap, not again! Hallam thought, realizing that he was about to get covered in decontamination compound for a second time that day. Closing his eyes and mouth, he let the mist cover him from head to toe. However, unlike the room in the complex on the rogue world, only a small amount of compound had been released inside the crawlspace. Hallam heard the whir of the pumps stop and he opened his eyes and mouth, taking a gulp of the now acrid-tasting air. The mist had already started to dry, forming a gel-like second skin that even managed to penetrate beneath his clothes.

“Okay, now that you’ve cleaned me up, can you open the damn door,” grumbled Hallam, again sure he could hear stifled laughter on the other end of the comm channel.

“There’s just one more thing I need you to do first,” replied Dakota.

“Ah, come on, Dak, what now?” Hallam hit back. The snickering seemed to have stopped, but Hallam remained suspicious, and he was also rapidly losing patience.

“Your flight suit is still contaminated, so you’ll need to remove it before leaving the crawlspace.”

Hallam wasn’t one to swear often, but on this occasion, his immediate response to Dakota’s suggestion was littered with a healthy number of the English language’s more colorful profanities.

“Don’t worry, Hal, we’ve got a spare flight suit out here,” Dakota said, offering precious little sympathy for Hallam’s predicament.

Hallam cursed again then grumbled continuously as he struggled to remove the gel-coated flight suit, like a snake shedding its skin. When he was finally done, he hammered his fist on the roof of the crawlspace and yelled, “Okay, I’m finished, now open the damn door already!”

There was no response over the speaker, but the shield door then slid back, allowing Hallam to shuffle inelegantly toward the hatch. However, with his skin sticky from a combination of sweat and decontamination gel, Hallam’s naked body squeaked across the metal deck like rubber against glass. Eventually, he made it underneath the hatch, his backside smarting from friction burns, and it popped open dutifully. Hallam climbed out, doing his best to protect his modesty with at least one hand, before kicking the hatch shut. He then turned toward the front of the ship, cupping his private parts in both hands, only to see Ruby and Dakota standing there, hands on hips, twisted smirks lining their faces.

“Not bad, tanker man,” said Ruby, blowing out a red gum bubble and flashing her eyes at him.

“Dak, where’s the damn flight suit?” said Hallam, feeling his face flush hot with embarrassment

“Oh, it’s in the locker, in the cargo compartment, said Dakota, unable to hide her glee.

It was then Hallam realized he’d been had. “I didn’t need to remove my fight suit at all, did I?” he said, feeling foolish. Dakota’s smile grew wider and she returned a nonchalant little shrug. “Damn it, Dak,” snarled Hallam, turning around and hotfooting it into the cargo area. The deck was freezing cold, ironically making it look like he was dancing over hot coals. “I’ll get you back for this…” Hallam yelled as either Dakota or Ruby – he couldn’t tell who – wolf-whistled at him.

Suddenly, there was a flare of intense white light outside the ship, as if they were back on the rogue world with lightning strikes flashing off all around them. Dakota and Ruby immediately ran back into the cockpit, their mirthful expressions wiped clean off their faces.

Hallam pulled open a locker, rummaged inside until he found a spare base layer flight suit, and pulled it on before also rushing to the front of the ship. When he got there, he saw an enormous strip of light tearing through space, seemingly without end. It was pulsating and undulating, like the ripple of waves in the middle of the ocean.

“That’s something you don’t see every day…” said Hallam, unable to tear his eyes off the phenomenon.

Dakota was hurriedly assessing the scan readings on her computer, shaking her head the whole time. “We’re going to need Dr. Rand to make sense of it, but I’m detecting massive gravitational fluctuations inside that thing,” she said, eyes still fixed to her screen. “The effect is already extending out from it, causing the gravity in the surrounding space to go haywire too.”

The fighter then seemed to accelerate away from the anomaly, almost knocking Hallam off his feet before the mysterious force suddenly vanished.

“That wasn’t me,” said Ruby, answering the question Hallam was about to ask. “I’m reading pockets of intense gravitational pull building up all around us. We need to get away from that anomaly, or we might end up getting crushed.” Without waiting for a response, Ruby engaged their main engines and started to accelerate away from the ripple in space. “I’m going to need a few minutes to reset the Shelby Drive and plot a new course back to the hideout,” Ruby added while starting work on the calculations. “But I, for one, think it’s high time we got back.”

“I suggest we avoid travelling too close to the main bridge routes,” added Dakota. Her tone was somber and Hallam sensed there was a reason behind her warning.

“Why do you say that, Dak?” Hallam asked, though he was slightly fearful of the answer.

Dakota turned her seat so that Hallam could see her computer screen. “Because that ripple in space is what used to be the bridge connecting the rogue world to Vesta,” she said as Hallam examined the visual scan of the anomaly on her monitor. He could see that Dakota had calculated the path of the anomaly through space, and determined that the end point was in the asteroid field, close to Damien Doyle’s personal planet.

“What happens when that anomaly hits Vesta?” asked Ruby, who had been listening in.

Hallam and Dakota met each other’s eyes again. Like Dakota, Hallam had seen Dr. Rand’s analysis of the alien star system – the mythical thirteenth bridge world that had been destroyed sometime in the distant past. As such, he already had a pretty good idea what would soon become of Vesta.

“Let’s just get this data back to the doc as quickly as we can,” said Hallam, choosing not to speculate, since he also knew he didn’t have all the answers. However, his gut told him that this was the start of something bad. He glanced across to Ruby, who was looking unusually ill-at-ease, and added, “I have a feeling that life on the bridge worlds is about to get a whole hell of a lot more complicated.”

19

Cad Rikkard’s boots had splatted into the mud, even before the rear ramp of his fighter had lowered fully. Oblivious to the numerous potential dangers in the swampland, Cad charged across the clearing toward Draga’s downed ship. The black cloud billowing out above the destroyed complex had obscured the planet’s silvery moon, further darkening the already gloomy surroundings. As such, Cad was unable to see inside the cockpit to know if Draga was alive or already dead.

However, the encroaching darkness was not Cad’s only obstacle. His progress toward Draga’s fighter was further impeded by bizarre fluctuations in the planet’s surface gravity. One second, he felt like he could leap across oceans, while the next, simply placing one foot in front of the next was arduous, even with the power-assistance from his armor. In a similar way, tree branches swayed chaotically, some reaching skyward, like sunflowers, while others drooped low, as if weighed down by invisible fruits. Cad had no explanation for any of it, but he knew that the longer he stayed on Doyle’s rogue world, the greater the risk was that he’d never be able to leave.

Reaching Draga’s ship, Cad climbed up onto the hull alongside the cockpit glass, which was still intact. He could just make out Draga inside, though with the rain lashing down on the fighter, he couldn’t determine her condition. Bizarrely, only a few meters away from the fighter, there was no rain at all, as if a giant umbrella had been opened over a large part of the clearing. Then, further away, he saw a patch of rain that was flowing upwards. It was like some sort of drug-induced hallucination, but one that would never wear off.

Drawing his armored fist back, Cad hammered a series of powerful strikes into the glass canopy in an effort to punch through and reach Draga. Blow after blow landed solidly, each strike cracking the glass a little more, until both the canopy and Cad’s armored gauntlet were smashed. Tearing the remaining shards of glass free, Cad slid inside the cockpit. There was a pungent smell of burning electronics, and Cad saw that all of the consoles and flight controls had exploded, as if they’d been struck by one of the atmosphere’s frequent bolts of lightning. Ignoring the damage, he dropped down beside Draga and grabbed her shoulders. He then tried to rouse her, shaking her more violently than was wise, considering the mercenary’s obvious injuries, but the adrenaline surging through his veins meant that any measure of restraint or subtlety was impossible.

“Draga!” Cad yelled over the crashes of thunder overhead. “Draga, wake up; we have to get out of here!”

Draga’s head lolled forward and her eyes opened slowly. Blood trickled out of them like tears, streaking her normally jet-black lightning-strike eyeliner with red. She blinked the blood away and finally saw Cad hunkered down beside her.

“Get out of here,” Draga said, sounding angry that Cad had come back for her. “The planet is tearing itself apart.”

Cad shook his head then tore open Draga’s harness, breaking the buckles as easily as breaking bread. “I give the commands,” he hit back while trying to peel Draga out of her seat. “The Blackfire Squadron is me, you, and Alexis. It’s all three of us, you understand?”

Draga seized Cad’s wrist and forced it away before ripping back a piece of her fractured chest armor. Cad’s narrowed eyes looked down to see a dozen jagged spikes of metal impaled into Draga’s chest and sternum. He gritted his teeth and tore off his gauntlets, pressing his hands to the wounds in an attempt to stem the flow of blood, but he already knew the injuries were too deep. Blood continued to pour out of the punctures in Draga’s flesh, coating Cad’s hands with her dwindling life essence.

“Cad, go…” said Draga, her voice growing weaker, though it was no less determined. “I’m dead, and you know it.”

Cad roared, smashing his bare knuckles against the broken and burned consoles, cutting his skin and blending his own blood with that of Draga’s.

“The medical pod in my ship can treat these wounds,” Cad insisted, turning back to his companion. “You have never given up without a fight,” he added, purposely trying to anger Draga and spur her on. “Fight for me now!”

“And you are not one to give in to sentimentality,” replied Draga, her voice crackly and weak. She pressed her head back into the seat and her hand slipped off her chest, but still she held Cad’s eyes. “You cannot save me,” she added. Her hand then slid onto Cad’s and she gripped it weakly. “But there is something you can do,” she went on, using the last of her energy to imbue her words with steel. “You can avenge me. You can make sure that Knight and Wulfrun learn their place.”

Draga’s words had given Cad strength, as he had always drawn strength from her. He cursed his own weakness. The last thing Draga Vex should see was the same Cad Rikkard she had fought with and respected for years, not the mawkish shadow of that man that had entered her cockpit. If Draga was to die, she would die as she lived – fearless, ruthless, and without compassion. Cad would honor that, and honor her dying wish.

Cad pulled away from Draga and rested his blood-soaked hands onto his thighs. “I will never stop until Knight and Wulfrun lie at my feet,” he said, his voice now stripped of all emotion except rage. “Then I’ll take down Doyle and Rand, and all of the others, even if it means letting the bridge worlds crumble, like this miserable planet.”

Draga’s blood-stained eyes remained open and flickered for the briefest moment, but she did not answer. Then her head fell to her chest and her body slumped forward. For the longest time, Cad had believed Draga Vex to be invulnerable. She should have died a hundred times before, yet somehow, she had always battled on. Now, death had finally claimed her.

Cad rose to his full height inside the smashed cockpit and peered up through the rain at the strange column of energy that pierced the atmosphere, pulsating with light, as if it were alive. In the distance, he could see mountains being torn from the ground, like weeds being uprooted. Rivers flowed across the horizon, like long, wispy clouds, while entire valleys were flattened, as if trodden on by the boot of a godlike giant. Cad drank it all in. If there was such a thing as the end of days, this almost certainly marked the beginning of it, he told himself. Yet every ending spawned a new beginning. Even if the bridge worlds died, Cad Rikkard would still be left standing. And that, he realized, was all that really mattered.

“We all die eventually,” Cad said out loud, repeating the words Draga had spoken to him, only hours earlier. He looked back at Draga, filled with a renewed sense of vigor. The end of the human race was approaching, and there could be no greater victory – no greater measure of his superiority – than to stand atop the ashes as the last man alive.

20

Cad Rikkard reattached his still functional left gauntlet, replacing his smashed right one with the gauntlet from Draga’s armor. He then picked up Draga’s dead body and climbed out of the destroyed cockpit, dropping down into the mud with her in his arms. With Cad’s attention now focused on his surroundings, he was suddenly aware of deep, guttural growls emanating from the tree-line surrounding the clearing. Then one of the reptilian beasts he’d first seen underneath the complex slowly crept out of the marshlands, close to where Cad’s fighter waited for him, engines still hot. Cad continued toward his vessel but barely made it another three steps before two more of the beasts slunk out of the shadows and blocked his path. Glancing behind, Cad saw a fourth approaching from his rear, stalking around the side of Draga’s stricken vessel like a hungry wolf.

Cad set Draga’s body down into the mud and drew his Black Prince sword. The blade of the weapon may have been fractured in half, but it was still sharp and deadly. Combined with the power of his armor, Cad trusted that it would be enough to penetrate the beasts’ thick skins. He knew that a fight was the last thing he needed. If he was going to escape the rogue world’s collapsing gravity well, time was of the essence. However, so much fury had amassed inside him that Cad had to find a release, like opening the valve on a pressure cooker. He was under no illusion that slaughtering the creatures would sate his bloodlust for long. However, it would be enough to banish the emotional aches and pains that were aggravating his physical wounds. And he also hoped that violence would act as a tonic, curing him of the sentimentality that Draga had so despised.

Spinning first to face the creature to his rear, Cad kicked off from the muddy ground and leapt into the air, raising the broken sword high. The creature reared up, brandishing one of its long, claw-tipped arms to defend itself, and Cad brought the blade down hard across it. The creature’s severed limb splashed into the mud moments later, and the beast roared and backed away, cradling its mutilated appendage. Hearing the heavy thud of footsteps in the mud, Cad turned to see another of the beasts charging toward him, its snarling mouth baring rows of dagger-like teeth. With no time to move, Cad dug in his heels and raised his arms, using the strength of his armor to resist the creature’s attack. The impetus of the charge drove Cad backward as the beast gnashed its teeth against his armor like a rabid dog. Cad grabbed the creature by the throat and threw it down into the mud, using its own momentum against it. The beast thrashed out its claws and Cad felt one of the flailing limbs slash across his face, cutting deep gashes into his cheek, but it only compelled him to tighten his hold. Quickly, the creature’s bellows turned to strangled gurgles as Cad crushed the monster’s windpipe. Eventually, its limbs stopped flaying and its alien snarls fell silent.

Cad pushed away from the dead creature and spun around to see the remaining beasts stalking closer. Both were larger than the two he’d already slain, and both moved cautiously, displaying a level of primitive intelligence by attempting to lure Cad away from Draga’s body. However, Cad stood his ground, sword gripped tightly in his hand, blood dripping from his gauntlets like sweat. Suddenly, one of the creatures surged forward, attempting to hook its claw into Draga’s chest and drag her away, but Cad caught the limb and pulled the beast closer, sinking the broken blade into its chest. The second then charged, and Cad threw the dying body of the first into its path, knocking the creature onto its flank. It roared, either with pain or frustration, and quickly righted itself before again trying to circle around Cad. However, Cad merely mirrored its moves, step-for-step, keeping himself firmly between the beast and Draga’s body. Finally, the creature grew impatient and darted at Cad, but a flash of the fractured Black Prince sword sent it scurrying away, blood weeping from the cut to its muscular shoulder. The creature snarled again and bore its teeth, but whatever intelligence the beast possessed was enough to know it was outmatched. Jaws still snarling, the creature began to step away from Cad, its dark, unblinking eyes fixed on the mercenary’s own. However, Cad had no intention of granting the beast mercy.

Raising the broken blade of the Black Prince sword high above his head, Cad ran at the creature and slashed at it with near frenzied aggression. Seconds later, both of the beast’s powerful claws lay bleeding in the mud. More roars of anguish merged with violent ripples of thunder, but Cad was not finished. Lunging forward, he carved a deep gash into the beast’s throat, then spun lower and opened its belly, as if gutting a fish. It fell, moaning softly, but Cad would not put the creature out of its misery. It would suffer, as Draga had done, and as Hallam Knight and Dakota Wulfrun would soon suffer too.

Cad stood amongst the carnage, flashes of lightning dancing off his now scuffed and muddied armor, and sheathed the broken sword. Returning to Draga’s body, he lifted her out of the mud and carried her into the hold of his fighter. Setting her down gently on the deck, Cad closed the ramp behind him and headed into the cockpit. Dropping into the pilot’s chair, Cad briefly looked out at the arcing rainbow of energy that seemed to be growing wider and brighter by the minute. In the distance, he saw the mountains that had been uprooted soaring high into the sky, alongside a rising swirl of rippling magma. Few spectacles were able to leave Cad in awe, but the sight of the planet in its final death throes was something he knew he’d never forget.

Suddenly, the fighter shot upwards, but Cad had yet to engage the vertical lift thrusters. Outside the canopy, he could see the dismembered bodies of the beasts rising alongside him, along with rocks and boulders and streaks of muddy swamp water. Cad grabbed the controls and engaged the main engines, pulling up hard, but it was like the ship was attached to massive elastic bands, tugging it in a dozen different directions. To his right, he saw a lake flowing upwards like a waterfall in reverse, and he turned toward it, hoping to ride the gravitational anomaly skyward, like a glider aircraft catching a thermal. The fighter continued to be buffeted like a kite in a storm, but eventually, Cad made it to the rising water and again pulled up hard. The acceleration was like nothing he’d experienced before, at least not inside an atmosphere, and he found himself pulling eight earth-standard g-forces in a matter of seconds. Cad’s hyper-advanced combat armor compensated for the acceleration, squeezing his blood back into his core to keep him conscious. Alarms were wailing inside the cockpit, but Cad’s vision was too blurred to read the damage report, not that there was anything he could do about the warnings even if he had done.

In what seemed like the blink of an eye, Cad’s fighter had surged into space and was rocketing away from the giant anomaly. His vision cleared as the acceleration reduced, and he looked back at the phenomenon in amazement. It appeared to extend into the infinity of the Darkspace, like a never-ending comet’s tail. However, a quick sideways glance at the crumbling planet was enough to convince him that he’d long outstayed his welcome at Doyle’s clandestine rogue world.

Cad powered up the Shelby Drive and cut the main engines. He then pulsed the thrusters to get one final look at the dying planet before it was gone forever. Chunks of the shadowy world as large as moons had begun to fracture into space. Some were expelled like bullets, while others that drew too close to the anomaly were squashed into singularities in less time than it took to snap a finger and thumb.

Cad hastily entered the reciprocal course to jump back along the established bridge to Vesta before he was hit with the gut-wrenching realization that the bridge was no longer there. The anomaly was all that now remained of that conduit through space. He cursed and brought up the star chart to calculate a new route back to the bridge worlds, grateful more than ever for his upgraded fighter’s ability to create its own temporary bridges.

Suddenly, a huge fragment of the planet was expelled into space toward him. It quickly fractured into billions of pieces, as if struck with the force of a million atomic bombs. A collision warning alarm rang out inside the cockpit, and Cad saw that the maelstrom of disintegrated rock was hurtling at him at a phenomenal speed. Cursing again, Cad pulsed the thrusters to spin the fighter away from the planet and burned hard in the opposite direction. However, even at maximum thrust, he couldn’t hope to outrun the rapidly approaching swarm.

“Collision warning, contact in ninety seconds…” the ship’s robotic voice announced in a calm and measured tone that reminded him of Draga’s own unflappable character.

Cad hammered his fist into the arm of the chair and yelled, “Not now, damn you! I am not finished yet!”

The universe may have already reclaimed Draga, but Cad refused to let it take him until he’d had his revenge. Focusing in on the navigation computer, Cad punched a sequence of coordinates from memory into the Shelby Drive and ran the calculation. If he was right, the coordinates would spit him out again a million kilometers from the planet. This would be a safe enough distance – he hoped – to allow him enough time to calculate the far more complex bridge back to Vesta or one of the other worlds. Considering what he’d just witnessed, Cad couldn’t be certain that Vesta had not also suffered the same fate as the planet crumbling in his wake.

The calculations completed and Cad enabled the Shelby Drive as the computer calmly intoned, “Collision warning, contact in fifteen seconds…”

The pulse of the mercenary fighter’s Shelby Drive grew to a crescendo, and Cad chanced a final look back. However, instead of the starlit blackness of space, he saw only a white noise of soaring rocks and dust. Then the cabin was enveloped in swirling red light, which persisted for only a few seconds before Cad’s fighter dropped out of bridge space again. His hurried and imprecise calculations had caused the Shelby Drive to overload and shut down, kicking him back into normal space only half a million kilometers from the planet. Several consoles then erupted into sparks, and the power systems fluctuated, then quickly stabilized again. Cad knew that his vessel had taken damage, but he also knew that his gamble had paid off. He was far enough away from the dying world to be safe, for the time being. And, more importantly, he was still alive.

Cad turned the nose of the fighter back toward what remained of the rogue world, which was now only a thumb-sized ball of light in the distance. The positions of the star system’s other planets and moons updated on his navigation computer. Each one was out of position, compared to where they were supposed to be, and each one was now orbiting in a pattern that disobeyed physics.

“It’s begun,” Cad said out loud, if only to break the deathly silence that had enveloped the cockpit. The renegades had been telling the truth all along, he realized. However, none of it mattered anymore. The bridge worlds would all soon crumble – but not before Hallam Knight lay dead at his feet.

21

Hallam wrapped his knuckles on the door to the medical bay in Dr. Rand’s hideout, then entered to find Dakota sitting on the edge of the examination bed. She smiled at him, already looking much more like her usual self. The medic who had been attending to her wounds acknowledged Hallam then departed, leaving them alone together.

“You’re looking better,” said Hallam, folding his arms and smirking at her. “You have all of our sparring sessions to thank for your speedy recovery.”

“And just how did you arrive at that startlingly dumb conclusion?” Dakota answered, pushing herself off the bed and flexing her muscles.

“It’s why you’ve got such a hard head, of course,” said Hallam, tapping a finger to his temple. “It’s a good job that you’re a terrible boxer, otherwise I wouldn’t have conditioned you to take quite such a savage beating.”

Dakota snorted a laugh, then winced and rubbed her jaw. “I think we might give the sparring sessions a miss for a few days, though,” she said, switching from massaging her jaw to rubbing her neck. “I wouldn’t want to give you an unfair advantage…”

“I’ll happily take your place…”

Hallam and Dakota turned to see Ruby Rivas leaning against the doorframe. As usual, the second member of the Wolf Squadron was chewing gum.

“I seem to remember you laying down a challenge to me not so long ago,” Ruby said to Hallam before blowing out a pea-green-colored gum bubble.

Hallam smiled and was about to accept the cocky pilot’s invitation when he suddenly felt dizzy. Spots danced in front of his eyes and a sharp pain shot through his head, as if a needle had just been inserted through his temples. The next thing he knew, Hallam was perched on the end of the examination bed, with both Ruby and Dakota clutching his arms for support.

“Hal, are you okay?” he heard Dakota say, though there was a high-pitched ringing in his ears that made Dakota’s voice sound distant. “Can you hear me?”

As suddenly as it had started, Hallam’s vision and hearing began to clear, like fog lifting under the midday sun. However, the shooting pain in his head remained, and he still felt weak.

“I’m okay now,” Hallam said, his voice sounding as uncertain as he felt. “I must have blacked out for a second then.”

“You don’t say…” said Ruby, though she sounded concerned, rather than snarky. “I called for Dr. Rand. She’s already on her way.”

Hallam nodded then accepted Ruby’s and Dakota’s help to lay him down on the bed. The act of taking the weight off his feet and resting his head on the soft, cool pillow had an instantly soporific effect, and he felt his eyelids growing heavy. He hadn’t been able to relax for the entire journey back to Dr. Rand’s Darkspace hideout. He’d been unable to stop thinking about Cad Rikkard and Draga Vex, and whether they’d also escaped from Doyle’s rogue world. That worry alone was enough to keep any notion of sleep at bay, but on top of this was the terrible knowledge that the first interstellar bridge had collapsed. The ramifications of this were still unknown. Dr. Rand had immediately hurried to her lab to analyze the data from Ruby’s fighter, and the genius scientist hadn’t been seen since. However, Hallam knew it was wishful thinking to believe the consequences of the event were anything other than catastrophic. It also didn’t help that they’d failed in their mission to retrieve the alien component that Dr. Rand needed. Hallam didn’t even know exactly why she needed it, since the secretive scientist had yet to fully explain her plan.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp, hot pain shoot across the side of his face, accompanied by a crack like a whip. He jolted upright, eyes bursting open to see Dakota peering down at him, hand raised and ready to strike again.

“Stay with me, Hal!” Dakota cried, shouting in a panicked holler. “Stay awake!”

Dakota went to slap him again, but Hallam raised his hands to shield his stinging face. “Damn it, Dak, I was just resting my eyes!” Hallam hit back, flexing his cheek muscles. His face was on fire, as if he’d fallen asleep in the midday sun and woken up to the aftereffects. “I’m not dead. At least not yet,” he added, gingerly touching his fingers to the sensitive area.

Ruby then snorted a laugh, and Hallam and Dakota shot her a dirty look, their peeved expressions mirroring one another’s exactly. “Well, I thought it was pretty funny.” Ruby shrugged, blowing out another green gum bubble. It popped suddenly, filling the air with a pungent apple fragrance that smelt like bathroom air freshener.

“How’s the patient?” said Dr. Rand, bustling into the room, holding her palm computer in one hand and carrying a black Gladstone bag in the other. She hadn’t noticed the looks of thunder on the faces of Hallam and Dakota, or the new gum bubble that Ruby had already begun to blow out. Hallam sat up and scowled at the Gladstone bag, which immediately made him think of Jack the Ripper and the dark, murderous streets of Victorian London.

“Aside from a sore cheek, not too bad,” replied Hallam, eliciting a bemused frown from Dr. Rand. Then he pointed to the bag and added, “As I’ve just explained to Dak, I’m not dead yet, so there’s really no need to dissect me.”

Dr. Rand ignored the quip and placed the bag down on the bed, popping open the clasp with a crisp click. She then opened it and flashed her eyes at Hallam, which only deepened his growing sense of foreboding. However, instead of a scalpel or a butcher’s knife, Dr. Rand removed a number of medical devices, the likes of which Hallam had never seen before.

“You have been watching too many old murder mystery movies, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand. She attached one of the devices to Hallam’s arm before strapping a larger appliance around his head. “However, if I do accidentally kill you, I’ll make sure that your body is donated to science.”

“That’s very comforting, Doc, thanks,” replied Hallam sarcastically.

Dr. Rand activated the devices then perched on the side of the bed, staring down at her palm computer. She continued in this way for a couple of minutes, during which time she remained pensive and silent. Hallam, Dakota, and Ruby frequently exchanged anxious looks before, eventually, Hallam couldn’t bear the anticipation any longer.

“Come on, Doc, the suspense is killing me!” Hallam blurted out. He felt like there was an executioner’s axe hanging above his head.

“An interesting turn of phrase, considering your condition, Mr. Knight,” replied Dr. Rand, which did precisely nothing to allay Hallam’s fears. Dr. Rand’s eyebrow then raised up and she cast a sideways glance at Hallam. “Do you remember the part where I mentioned limiting yourself to no more than ten seconds of exposure to the alien device?”

Hallam folded his arms and scowled back at her. “I do, and I also remember the part about six-foot killer reptilian monsters.” Then he clicked his fingers and added, “Oh wait, no, that part wasn’t mentioned at all…”

Dr. Rand frowned. “I thought it was flesh-eating giant spiders?” she replied, laying on some sarcasm of her own. Hallam’s look conveyed his ample dismay at the scientist’s questionable bedside manner, and she seemed to take the hint. “I’ll prepare a raft of treatments to counteract the effects of your recklessly prolonged exposure,” said Dr. Rand, placing the palm computer down on her lap. “However, your miraculous resistance to Randenite radiation appears to have spared you from any permanent damage, at least so far as I’m able to determine.”

Hallam let out a relieved sigh, although he couldn’t help but pick up on the slightly non-committal nature of Dr. Rand’s diagnosis. The scientist then removed a packet of tablets from her “Jack the Ripper” bag and handed them to Hallam.

“Start by taking two of these,” she said, tapping the packet in the palm of Hallam’s hand. “Then visit my lab in one hour and we’ll get started on the other treatments.” Dr. Rand closed the Gladstone bag and stood up, turning toward the door. She then hesitated and glanced back at Hallam, her expression far graver than he would have liked. “However, I would strongly caution against any further exposure to Randenite radiation, at least in the short-term,” she added, suddenly sounding very much like a physician giving Hallam a ticking off for poor lifestyle choices. “You may be resistant, Mr. Knight, but you are not invulnerable.”

Hallam slid off the bed and popped the pills into his mouth, then took a swig of water from a cup that was already on the table next to it. “I’m not sure I’ll have much choice, Doc,” he said after swallowing the chunky, bitter-tasting tablets. “We didn’t manage to retrieve the component you needed, so I’m guessing you’re going to need us to go after an alternative?”

Dr. Rand considered the question for a moment, during which time Hallam guessed she was formulating one of her typically guarded responses. “I have something in mind, but it can wait,” she eventually replied, though it was more of an evasion than an answer. “First, you all need to rest,” Dr. Rand added before again turning to leave. This time, it was Ruby Rivas that stopped her.

“Hey, just a damn minute,” snapped Ruby, speaking to the scientist in a manner that bordered on insubordinate. Hallam was shocked. He’d never heard Ruby talk to Dr. Rand in a manner that was even remotely disrespectful. “We all nearly died trying to get that alien thing off the nightmare planet from hell,” Ruby added, continuing to take a stern tone with the scientist. “The least you can do is clue us in on why you needed it.”

Dr. Rand met Ruby’s eyes and held them for a couple of seconds, then closed the door of the medical bay and locked it. Hallam glanced at Dakota and Ruby, who both appeared to be as eager to hear Dr. Rand’s next words as he was.

“The component I asked you to retrieve was part of the alien bridge drive technology,” said Dr. Rand, setting her bag down on the floor and holding her hands in front of her waist. “In fact, it was the crucial part. It is what the original Shelby Drive design was based on. But I was never able to reproduce its capabilities fully, and I still cannot, which is why I needed the original.”

Hallam shrugged. “So you’re looking to build a new Shelby Drive? A better drive?” he asked, unsure of where Dr. Rand was heading with her explanation. “I thought the plan was to destroy the Centrum. How does building a better Shelby Drive help us do that?”

Dakota nodded then added her voice to the mix. “Hallam’s right. I don’t see how a drive component helps us take down the Centrum. I thought we were out there recovering a weapon, not a new engine.”

Ruby also nodded in agreement, and it was clear to everyone in the room that there was anger and even a little resentment over Dr. Rand’s admission. They’d all put their lives on the line, more than once, and the scientist owed them a fuller explanation as to why.

“I’m afraid there’s no magic bullet, or even alien weapon, that can destroy the Centrum,” said Dr. Rand, who had adopted a more rigid posture, though she did not appear to be perturbed that the Wolf Squadron had suddenly turned on her. “I have run hundreds of attack simulations on the Centrum, over a great many years, and in every one of them, the renegade assault squadrons were annihilated by the station’s impermeable defense perimeter. All, that is, apart from one scenario.” Hallam again glanced at the others, but they were hanging on the scientist’s every word, just as he was. “The only scenario that had a chance of success involves bypassing the Centrum’s defense grid entirely,” Dr. Rand continued.

Hallam frowned, annoyed that Dr. Rand had spoken a lot of words but still said nothing. However, before he could press her for more specifics, Ruby huffed a surprised laugh. She was also nodding enthusiastically, as if Dr. Rand had just conveyed some deep and meaningful nugget of wisdom. Hallam, however, remained clueless.

“You want to bridge an assault team right up to the gates, right?” said Ruby, smiling. “That way, you bypass the fighters and the mines and the dozens of gun emplacements. You pop up right in front of the hangar door, and punch your way in before anyone realizes what’s happened.”

Dr. Rand returned Ruby’s smile and nodded.

“So that’s why you need the original alien bridging tech?” said Hallam, finally understanding the scientist’s idea. “Because the Shelby Drives in our fighters could never make a jump that’s precise enough?”

Dr. Rand again just nodded while maintaining a soft Mona Lisa smile. Hallam puffed out his cheeks and sighed. Ever since he’d started using the advanced Shelby Drives in the renegade fighters to create temporary bridge routes through space, Hallam had noticed that the end location had always fluctuated, sometimes by several kilometers. To pull off the stunt that Dr. Rand was suggesting would require a ship that could create a bridge to within a very tight margin-of-error. Perhaps to within a few meters.

“So why keep that from us?” asked Dakota, moving past the issue of why Dr. Rand needed the tech and on to the issue of why she’d kept it a secret. “All of us are invested in this mission, Dr. Rand. We deserve to know what you’re planning.”

Dr. Rand held up her hands. “Miss Wulfrun, please understand that my guarded nature is not because I don’t trust you,” the scientist quickly cut in. “However, if Damien Doyle got wind of what I was planning, he could quickly plug this gap in the Centrum’s defenses.” Dr. Rand then looked at Dakota directly. “And your recent adventures aptly demonstrate precisely why the less you know the better.”

Dakota folded her arms and looked eager to argue back, but instead, she bit her tongue. The implication that Dakota would have revealed Dr. Rand’s secrets under duress was obviously something she took umbrage with.

“I know you would have resisted any attempts by the Blackfire Squadron or the CSF to make you talk,” the scientist went on, clearly sensing the reason for Dakota’s unease. “I even believe that you would take these secrets to your grave if it came to it,” Dr. Rand added. “However, we all know that Draga Vex’s reputation for extracting information is well-earned. You may not have had a choice.”

Hallam sighed and met the eyes of the other members of the Wolf Squadron in turn. Dr. Rand’s explanation, while in many ways unsatisfying, was rational. However, it still left them in a limbo.

“So, what now?” asked Hallam, turning back to the scientist. “That whole complex went up like an atom bomb on steroids. How are we supposed to find another piece of alien tech like the one you need?”

Dr. Rand picked up her Gladstone bag again and unlocked the door, a clear sign that she was done with discussing the issue, at least for now. Despite stating that she trusted the squadron – a statement that Hallam had believed – she remained highly secretive. However, Hallam conceded that this was perhaps not without good reason.

“There is one other option, but we’ll come to that when you are all rested and recovered,” said Dr. Rand, and this time, no one pushed her to reveal more.

“Maybe we don’t need to find another alien probe or drive component?” offered Dakota, unfurling her arms and pressing her hands to her hips instead. “Doyle can’t cover up what’s happening now, even with his power over the media. The gravitational anomaly from the rogue world will eventually reach Vesta and spread from there. It will be impossible to ignore it or hide it.”

“I’m afraid Mr. Doyle’s media machine has already been hard at work spinning a story to explain the phenomenon,” said Dr. Rand gloomily. “The anomalies have been blamed on terrorist activities committed by the Darkspace Renegades. It’s all over every media station and news channel, including the BridgeNet.”

Ruby threw her head back and cursed. “Damn that guy! Surely there has to be a way to reach people, through the dark BridgeNet or some other route?”

Dr. Rand cocked her head to the side, suggesting that she’d also been thinking along similar lines. “There are options, Miss Rivas, but without broad coverage, we won’t be believed,” she said, her response typically noncommittal. “The truth will out in time, but unfortunately, time is a commodity we no longer have. The complex on the rogue world appeared to contain the most precious – and most dangerous – of the alien artefacts reclaimed from their homeworld. When the complex was destroyed, the explosion tore open a fissure between bridge space and normal space. Vesta will be hardest hit, but the impact will ripple throughout all the bridges, accelerating their decay. If we don’t end bridge travel soon, we may only have weeks, or even days to stop the bridge worlds from suffering the same fate as Damien Doyle’s secret planet.”

Dr. Rand’s monologue hit them all like a hammer blow. In his own mind, Hallam had still believed they had time on their side, but Dr. Rand had burst that bubble with the same ease that Ruby typically blew them out.

“Jeez, way to end on a downer,” said Ruby in what was a well-intentioned but sorely misjudged attempt to lighten the mood. Dr. Rand, however, smiled amiably, then finally opened the door.

“We’ll reconvene in the morning,” Dr. Rand said, stepping out into the corridor outside the medical bay. Then she nodded to Hallam and added, “Apart from Mr. Knight. I still have some highly experimental, and most likely deeply unpleasant treatments to administer to you.”

“Great…” replied Hallam, giving her a sardonic thumbs-up gesture.

The scientist again went to leave, but something stopped her. She hung outside the door for a few seconds, then glanced back at the Wolf Squadron. “Your efforts and sacrifices do not go unnoticed,” she said with an almost familial warmth. “But stay strong. This is far from over yet.”

And with that, Dr. Rand finally departed, leaving Hallam confused as to whether he should feel motivated or even more worried about what lay ahead of them.

22

Cad Rikkard watched as another three shuttles blasted off from the mainland, which was across the water from Damien Doyle’s island repair station on Vesta. He’d now counted twenty vessels fleeing the planet in the last ten minutes alone. And this was even before the gravitational anomalies had escalated to the catastrophic level Cad knew would eventually rack the planet. So far, the effects of the collapsing bridge between Doyle’s rogue world and the nearby asteroid field had not resulted in significant consequences for Vesta itself. However, the cities on the Vestan moon were already experiencing unexplained malfunctions in their artificial gravity generators. In some cases, these had been so severe that people had been flattened to death, as if trodden on by an invisible herd of elephants. In other parts of the cities, the gravity wells had inexplicably reversed, causing people to fall to their deaths as the ceiling suddenly became the floor. The planet itself had been spared such bizarre occurrences so far, but reports of localized pockets of gravitational instability were growing by the hour. However, even with the Consortium-owned news channels playing down the extent of the anomalies and blaming the cause on the Darkspace Renegades, many of those with the means to do so had already chosen to flee.

“I estimate probably another ten minutes and then we’ll be done, sir,” said a Consortium technician in an orange boiler suit who had strolled out from the main repair hangar. He remained a cautious distance from Cad, who was still wearing his battle-damaged power armor, as well as the deep facial scar from his fight with the reptilian beasts.

“And my replacement sets of armor?” Cad asked while still watching the departing ships climb higher into the atmosphere.

“Yes, sir, they’re all loaded on board and ready to go,” the technician answered, rubbing his knuckles timidly. “I’m still working on the other item you requested, but it should be ready soon too.” The technician then huffed a laugh as he appeared to reflect on the complexities of the task Cad had asked him to undertake. “The metal is truly remarkable. However the re-forging process is complicated and…”

“I don’t care for the details,” Cad interrupted, already growing tired of the man’s voice. “Just make sure it’s ready by the time I leave.”

The technician nodded and backed away. Cad heard the diminishing sound of his boots clapping against the hard tarmac as he then swiftly departed, the pace of the man’s exit increasing with each step. Cad’s watch then bleeped an incoming call and he lifted his wrist to see that it was Falken. He refused the connection and sent her a quick message, explaining that he would contact her shortly. There was a lot he needed to discuss with the eccentric hacker, but first he had to make another call. Cad was wary of speaking with Damien Doyle again, especially in light of Draga’s death, and the rage he was struggling to contain. He knew some of that anger would inevitably spill out in the direction of the multi-trillionaire, and it was important he kept his cool. It was also important that Cad gave Doyle the facts first, rather than allowing the old goat to receive it second-hand and formulate his own biased view on what had happened.

Cad scrolled to Damien Doyle’s contact details on his watch, sucked in a couple of deep breaths, and initiated the connection. Doyle answered with barely any delay, which in itself was unusual. The magnate liked to keep people waiting. It was one of the many ways he asserted his dominance over others. The emitters in Cad’s armor projected the image of the Doyle onto his retinas, creating the illusion that the head of the Consortium was standing on the tarmac in front of him. As usual, Doyle was wearing a dull combination of plain cream slacks and an even plainer black sweater, which looked a size too big for his thin frame. However, he was also wearing his unique animal skins shoes, fashioned from a now extinct alligator-like creature from one of the bridge worlds. It was still the only item Doyle owned that Cad had ever coveted. He thought back to the alien reptiles on the rogue world and wished he’d lugged one into the cargo hold so he could have something similarly unique made for himself. Since there was no possibility of returning to that planet, it would have meant Cad owned something that the galaxy’s richest man could not, despite Doyle’s vast resources.

“What the hell is going on!?” Doyle began, dispensing with his usual opening gambit of denigrating Cad and trying to make him feel inferior. “I’ve lost contact with my remote facility, and there are planetwide reports of gravitational instabilities on Vesta and the moon. I’ve had the governors of every major state on all eleven other bridge worlds demanding answers, and the damn US President just called me too!”

Cad sucked in another gulp of the salty sea air in an effort to compose himself and keep his anger contained. He still needed Doyle’s resources to help track down the renegades, Hallam Knight and Dakota Wulfrun. He knew he had to be careful not to provoke the magnate into another outburst and rash attempt to take him down.

“Your complex and the entire planet were destroyed,” Cad answered calmly, watching Doyle’s eyes widen in horror. The older man’s body then appeared to slacken, like the wilting stem of a flower. He stepped back and rested heavily on his enormous desk, looking like he’d just been given a terminal diagnosis. Cad’s field of view was restricted when using the retinal projection technology, but he still recognized the regal piece of furniture as the one Doyle had in his library on his private estate. That meant that Doyle was currently on Vesta too, Cad realized, but he parked that thought for the moment. “Other renegades attacked the complex in an attempt to rescue Dakota Wulfrun,” Cad continued, since Doyle had remained in a stunned silence. “During the battle, some sort of alien warbot got loose. The complex initiated a self-destruct sequence. The detonation is what caused the anomaly that destroyed the planet, and it’s also the cause of what is happening here.”

Doyle had listened patiently, but his wide eyes had narrowed and become cynical during the course of Cad’s explanation. “The anomalies are the work of the Darkspace Renegades, Mr. Rikkard,” Doyle said with a sudden hostility. “You would do well not to forget that.” Cad snorted and shook his head. Even now, Doyle was lying to him and treating him like a fool. And he could also see that the magnate was gearing up to lay the blame for the entire incident squarely at Cad’s door. “The real issue, Mr. Rikkard, is that you have once again failed me, and disgraced your reputation,” Doyle continued, his words dripping with spiteful condescension. Then Doyle pushed himself away from the desk and rose to his full height, as if he were able to draw strength from the act of denigrating others. Aiming a finger at Cad, Doyle continued his verbal assault. “Well, this will be the last time you fail me or yourself,” Doyle went on, growing angrier with each syllable.

However, Cad had already had enough of the bile spouting from the magnate’s mouth. This time, he wasn’t going to allow the multi-trillionaire to talk to him like the dirt on the bottom of his shoe. And he wasn’t going to allow Doyle to blame him for the magnate’s own failings.

“This disaster is of your own making, Doyle,” Cad interrupted, his commanding voice drowning out even Doyle’s confident tones. “You said nothing of the creatures that stalked that planet. Your enforcers were all but wiped out before we arrived. And you said nothing of the dangers that were hidden in that complex either.” Now it was Cad’s turn to aim a finger. “If you had not kept these things from me – as you have always kept things from me – this incident could have been prevented.”

Doyle was clearly taken aback by Cad’s outburst, but he did not back down. “If you had done your job, Mr. Rikkard, none of this would have happened. You have no idea what has been lost!”

“Yes I do!” Cad growled through gritted teeth, his fists clenched. “I lost Draga on that planet, killed by the alien machine you kept secret from me,” he spat, and this time, Doyle did recoil. “If you had warned me of what to expect, then she would still be alive. So don’t talk to me about what has been lost!” Unusually, Doyle did not immediately strike back in an attempt to secure the last words. Instead, he remained silent, probing Cad’s eyes through the lens of the holo emitters. Cad forced his breathing into a regular, almost meditative rhythm, fighting harder than ever to push the rage deeper inside himself. “If you want to end our agreement – again – then so be it,” Cad went on, since Doyle had remained silent. “You can try to find someone else who knows the locations of the renegade hideouts, as I now do. And you can try to find someone else who knows how to bypass their bases’ defensive perimeters, as I now do. And you can try to find someone else with nuclear warheads that can reduce their bases to dust in the blink of an eye, as I can.”

Doyle continued to remain silent, but Cad could see that his tirade had struck a chord. He then heard the bright chimes of another incoming call chirrup out from a computer terminal on Doyle’s desk. The magnate looked at the screen, scowled, then cancelled the alert.

“I just declined another call from the President of the United States, Mr. Rikkard,” said Doyle, suddenly sounding more composed. “So, tell me, what’s the catch? You want more money, is that it?”

Doyle’s climb-down almost caused Cad to smile, but he managed to contain this urge, along with his urge to snap Doyle’s neck. The sense of triumph and gratification did not last long, however, as the image of Draga’s broken body and that of Alexis, lying in her hospital bed, darkened his mind and his mood. However, the sobering thoughts at least allowed him to respond to Doyle with the somber conviction that was required in that moment.

“You want Rand, and I want the renegades, Knight, Wulfrun, and Rivas,” said Cad coolly. “Our interests, for once, are aligned. I’ll get you what you want, and in so doing, I get what I want too.”

Damien Doyle reflected on Cad’s response for a few moments, then folded his arms across the chest of his dreary black sweater. “Very well, Mr. Knight, once again you have a reprieve,” said Doyle, appearing to be satisfied with this answer. Though the way he had phrased his agreement to continue their contract sounded more like a king ordering a temporary stay of execution for a peasant. “Get back to me with an update at your earliest convenience.”

Doyle went to end the call, but Cad was not finished. Since the multi-trillionaire now appeared to be in a more compliant mood, he wanted to see what else he could press him to reveal.

“The renegades are right, aren’t they,” said Cad, stopping Doyle in his tracks.

“What do you mean?” Doyle responded tersely, as if Cad had just accused him of a crime.

“Rand is right and has been all along, at least have the guts to admit it,” Cad continued. Despite his efforts to remain calm, he was drawn to confrontation, like a moth to a flame. “Rand was telling the truth about bridge travel, Randenite, and the gravitational anomalies. This is just your attempt to cover it all up.” Cad watched Doyle’s arms wrap more tightly around his chest, but the fact that the magnate had not already barked insults at him suggested the dynamic of their relationship had shifted in Cad’s favor.

“And so what if it is true, Mr. Rikkard?” Doyle hit back with unfamiliar restraint. “Are you going to turn your coat and join the renegade cause?”

Cad shook his head. “I just want the truth from you, for once. We’re both too deep into this to walk away now.”

Doyle considered this answer as the computer screen on his desk began chiming another incoming call, which he again cancelled.

“Very well, Mr. Rikkard, since we are having a heart to heart,” said Doyle, turning his attention back to Cad. “Yes, Randenite and bridge travel is the cause of these gravitational anomalies,” Doyle admitted. “However, it was Shelby Rand’s bungled contraptions that created this mess, and it is Rand that is the key to fixing it. The solution is not to tear down everything we have built, as Rand wants to do. The solution is to fix the problem with better technology. The worlds cannot survive without bridge travel. It is a lifeline that cannot be severed.”

Doyle’s speech was delivered like a conference keynote. Practiced, polished, and well-acted. However, Cad was not impressed. If anything, he felt like laughing, but held it in. The reason why the lifeline, as Doyle had called it, could not be severed was that it generated a vast income stream for Damien Doyle’s Consortium. Without it, his empire would crumble and Doyle knew it. The multi-trillionaire tycoon had always put his own personal interests above that of any other consideration. In his mind, the common good could only be served through the elevation of his own status and influence. Cad’s eyes then briefly flicked up to a ship that had dropped lower on the horizon and was now heading for the island. He again suppressed the urge to smile, then turned his attention back to Doyle.

“And what if Rand won’t help you, or if she can’t help you?” Cad asked, curious to know how far this man would go to protect his interests. “What if the only way to stop the worlds crumbling is to let Rand complete her mission.”

Doyle shook his head, like he was reading an unsatisfactory profit report. “That is small-minded thinking, Mr. Rikkard. I had hoped for more from you,” he replied, again turning to insults. “There are many other planets, beyond Earth and the twelve known bridge worlds,” Doyle went on, with an icy indifference to the prospect of billions dying. “If the Darkspace Renegades succeed in their task, it will be no different than if the bridges collapsed. Society would crumble and countless lives would be lost. But if they do succeed, rest assured that I and my empire will survive, Mr. Rikkard.”

“Of that I have no doubt,” said Cad, choosing to stroke the magnate’s ego on this occasion. He didn’t want Doyle to suspect his own intention to end the man’s reign as leader of the Consortium. “I’ll get back to you with an update shortly,” Cad added. Using his watch, he then swiped to a package of data recorded by his ship and transmitted it to Doyle. “I would suggest that you relocate, though,” said Cad as Doyle’s computer chimed the incoming message. “It won’t be long before your private planet becomes uninhabitable.”

Doyle frowned and glanced down at his screen, viewing the video recording of the rogue world being torn apart by the anomaly that was now heading for Vesta.

“Very well, I will temporarily relocate to my Governors Island headquarters on Earth,” the magnate replied. He appeared as indifferent to the prospect of his own planet crumbling as he had been to the notion of billions of deaths. Doyle then met Cad’s eyes again. “Send your report to me there,” he ordered before ending the call.

As the image of Damien Doyle vanished, Cad was again drawn to the approaching ship, which was circling around to land. The fighter was close enough now for Cad to see the familiar raven skull motif painted on the side. His thoughts drifted back to Doyle and the knowledge of his new location. His skyscraper on Governors Island, New York, was relatively unguarded, unlike his fortress-like estate on Vesta. It would make getting to him easier when the time came. For now, he’d let Doyle scurry off and hide. His time would come soon enough, Cad told himself, feeling energized by the prospect of squeezing the life out of the odious man.

The fighter touched down and Cad waited impatiently for the rear ramp to lower. The prospect of seeing Alexis again caused his stomach to tighten into a knot, and he felt suddenly nauseous. Both sensations were unfamiliar to Cad, and he didn’t like them. However, as soon as he saw Alexis Black step off the ramp and onto the tarmac of the repair base, the swell of relief at seeing her again overrode any other emotion. For a moment, both mercenaries merely stood looking at each other. Then Alexis set off toward Cad at a run, throwing her arms around him and pulling him into a tight embrace.

23

Cad wrapped his arms around Alexis and returned her embrace. He wanted to squeeze her as tightly as she had gripped him, but he had to struggle hard to remain in control. He was still wearing his power armor and risked crushing Alexis if he allowed his emotions to overcome him. Because of this, he wanted to pull away, but the feel of Alexis next to him and the smell of her hair had brought him comfort. Yet it was bittersweet. Cad didn’t want to feel as good as Alexis was making him feel. He was still too angry. Still, as Alexis pulled him closer and kissed his lips, Cad did not resist. And he didn’t resist as she stroked her hands across his face and kissed the scars that now ran from the side of his head down to his cheek bone.

“We’ll find them,” said Alexis, finally releasing her hold on Cad, though her eyes still gripped him tightly. “We’ll find them and we’ll make them pay.”

Cad nodded, still holding on to Alexis’ shoulders. Within seconds of her arrival, Alexis had given him two things he didn’t even know he needed: reassurance and allegiance. He felt immediately stronger and more complete. He still felt the loss of Draga keenly, but Alexis’ absence had been more acute, as if a part of himself had been missing.

Cad gestured to the hangar. “Repairs to my ship are almost done, but I suggest you restock with anything you might need. We may not be able to return to this planet again.”

Cad’s watch bleeped and he saw that Falken was again trying to reach him. He felt irked that she had called him for a second time after explicitly telling the hacker that he would return her call. However, Falken’s timing on this occasion could not have been better, so he decided to give her a pass.

“Does she have what we need?” asked Alexis, tapping Cad’s wrist.

“She’d better have it, or there will be hell to pay,” replied Cad sharply. He’d had enough bad luck for one day. He needed something to go right.

“I’ll re-equip and meet you back here,” said Alexis, heading off toward the hangar.

Although she’d only moved a few meters away, Cad already felt anxious at being separated from Alexis. “Hey…” he called out, causing Alexis to stop and glance back at him. He wanted to tell her that he was happy to see her, and that he needed her, but those sorts of words did not come easily to him.

“I know,” said Alexis, smiling and once again setting Cad’s mind at ease. She knew him better than he knew himself, he realized.

Cad watched Alexis go, noting that each one of her long strides was strong, confident, and fluid. Alexis was back to her best. He needed her now more than ever, and far more than he’d ever previously allowed himself to admit. Suddenly, Cad’s gut knotted once more and he felt something he had never experienced before. He felt afraid, and it chilled him to the bone. He’d already lost Draga – he couldn’t lose Alexis as well. Yet he also couldn’t allow sentimentality to cloud his judgment. And he certainly could not afford to doubt. Cad balled his hands into fists, pressing so hard that his gauntlets began to crush his own fingers. He continued to squeeze, allowing the pain to wash away his weaker emotions, and did not release the hold until his mind was once again clear. With his fears and his anger suppressed, Cad finally tapped his watch to answer the call from Falken.

“Have you heard what’s happening out near Vesta?” Falken blurted out, mere milliseconds after the connection was established. The image of Falken that was projected onto Cad’s retinas was not as detailed as a full holo call, but he could still make out that Falken was in her mountain lair. “The dark BridgeNet is full of talk about a hidden bridge collapsing near the asteroid field in the Vesta system. It sounds like Doyle has been keeping some pretty enormous secret. It’s wild, right!”

Cad would normally have been irritated by the hacker’s seemingly inexhaustible enthusiasm, but her mention of the anomaly gave him an idea. “Damien Doyle built a clandestine bridge to a secret planet, way out beyond Vesta,” Cad began, causing Falken’s mouth to fall open. “The planet housed his collection of secret alien technology, salvaged from the thirteenth bridge world that Dr. Shelby Rand discovered decades ago.” Cad paused to see if this had elicited the desired reaction, but Falken looked like she’d been flash frozen. “The discovery of this alien world was subsequently covered up by Doyle, and the alien technology was used as the basis of Randenite and Shelby Drive technology. It is this technology that is causing all the bridges to destabilize. Doyle tried to have Rand killed when he discovered this fact and brought it to the Consortium’s attention. Shelby Rand is no terrorist. The real danger is Damien Doyle.”

Falken looked like she was about to speak, but then cycled through half a dozen bemused and excited facial expressions before finally saying, “Why are you telling me all this?”

“Because I want you to get the information out onto the BridgeNet,” said Cad.

“Say what?” said Falken, eyes wide.

“I want you to release this information.” Cad repeated, simplifying the statement even further so there was no chance of misinterpretation.

However, Falken just cursed in reply, then repeated, “No way! … No way!” so many times that, not for the first time, Cad wanted to murder her.

“Can you get this out there or not?” asked Cad, drawing on all his internal strength to keep his agitation with the hacker in check.

“How much of it?” Falken replied, looking like a kid that had just been given the keys to a toy store.

“Everything,” said Cad. “I’ll bring you all the proof you need, but you have to make sure it can’t be traced back to me. That would end badly, for you especially.”

Falken ignored the threat and just whooped and slapped her desk, knocking over a tall bottle of soda, which then fell into her lap. She cursed, picking it up and spilling more fizzy soda over herself, but she was still laughing. “Anything you need, man,” Falken said, throwing the frothing soda bottle into a trash can. “I can say I hacked Doyle’s central mainframe. My Kung Fu is so strong that no one will doubt me.” Then Falken swore again before appearing to rummage around for something on her desk. “I also got your thing,” Falken said, holding up an anonymous-looking black box. “You know… the thing that you wanted me to build?”

“Yes, I know what ‘the thing’ is,” said Cad, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at her. “I’ll pick it up when I stop by.”

“Great!” Falken cried, beaming at him. “That’ll be soon, right? Because I’ll need that juicy data to set the BridgeNet on fire!”

“It will be soon,” replied Cad, “but I have another stop to make first, assuming you have some new coordinates for me?”

“I sure do,” said Falken, throwing a few pieces of popcorn into her mouth from a bowl to the side of her keyboard. “I’m sending the first one to you now.”

Cad’s watch bleeped and he saw the data get logged into his ship’s navigation computer. Cad nodded and let out a satisfied sigh. He was all set, and he knew exactly what he had to do.

“I’ll message you just before I arrive,” said Cad, ending the call before Falken could pollute his eyes and ears with any more of her nauseating joviality.

Cad turned back to Alexis’ ship and saw a loader pulling away from it, followed soon after by a refueling tanker. A couple of cleaner bots then scurried around underneath the fighter, cleaning up spills and any small foreign objects. Suddenly, one of them raced off across the tarmac, clattering end over end like a trash can caught by a strong gust of wind. Alexis appeared from out of the shadows underneath the ship and began walking toward him. Cad met her halfway, observing that the Consortium technician in the orange boiler suit was also approaching.

“Nice shot,” said Cad, cocking his head toward the cleaner bot, which was still spinning around on the deck like an upended beetle.

“I was hoping for a little more distance,” said Alexis, shrugging. Then she hooked a thumb at her ship. “So what’s the plan? Where are we headed next?”

“Now we go and do some nuclear weapons testing,” said Cad, folding his arms and feeling his muscles tense up with anticipation.

Alexis looked Cad up and down, then a smirk curled her lips. “You’ll need to change first,” she said, flashing her eyes at Cad’s battered, mud-splattered armor. “You don’t look or smell so good right now…” Then Alexis noticed Cad’s empty scabbard, and her smile fell away. “Wait, was it lost?”

The technician drew near, each step growing more cautious the closer he got. Stopping several meters away, he coughed politely to get Cad’s attention then held out the case, as if presenting it to him. The mercenary cast a sideways glance toward the technician before turning back to Alexis.

“It was broken,” said Cad, answering Alexis’ question. “But I took care of it.”

Alexis frowned then watched as Cad walked up to the technician and lifted the lid of the large black case. Inside was Cad’s Black Prince sword, the ornate hilt restored to pristine condition. However, it wasn’t only the distinctive hilt that had been reconditioned. The sword also possessed a brand-new blade. Cad removed the weapon from the box and held it up, carefully inspecting the technician’s work. The metal was several shades darker than the original weapon’s super-alloy blade, and it also shimmered with a lustrous hue.

“The metal used in the armor you gave me was particularly difficult to rework, so I had to blend it with the same material used in your ship’s hulls,” the technician said, also admiring the beautiful sword. “I wasn’t sure it would work, but it did.”

Cad flourished the reforged Black Prince, getting a feel for the slightly different weight and balance of the blade. “How strong is it?” he asked while continuing his display of swordplay.

“It’s harder and sharper than any metal on Earth, or any other planet for that matter. It’s really something.” Then the technician’s brow furrowed a little. “The armor. Did it belong to someone you know?”

Cad sheathed the sword and peered down at the technician, his eyes as sharp as his new blade. Ordinarily, he would have told the technician to mind his own business and send him scurrying away with his tail between his legs. However, the work he had done in restoring his sword had been exquisite, and if nothing more, he merited knowing why he’d been tasked with the job.

“It belonged to someone we both knew,” said Cad, casting his eyes across to Alexis, who nodded, immediately understanding Cad’s meaning.

“A friend?” asked the technician.

Cad thought for a moment, again fighting against a rising surge of emotion. This time, however, he allowed himself to give in to the emotions, if only a little, and if only for a few seconds.

“No, not a friend,” he replied, before facing Alexis. “She was family.”

24

Hallam danced around the makeshift boxing ring in Dr. Rand’s hideout, smirking at Ruby as best he could manage, considering the bulky gum-shield in his mouth. Dakota was in Ruby’s corner, hollering tips and instructions and generally egging her on. However, after Dr. Rand’s treatments, Hallam was feeling strangely invincible and was more than up for a fight. And he could already see that Ruby was getting frustrated. Then a clumsy attack from his Wolf Squadron comrade gave Hallam an opening. Stepping in, he landed a sharp left jab, followed by a solid body shot that sent Ruby reeling into her corner and down to one knee, cradling her ribs.

“Come on, Ruby, I thought you’d be more of a challenge,” teased Hallam, popping out his gum shield so that he could speak without mumbling. “It seems that this ‘tanker man’ has your number after all…”

Hallam’s intention was to provoke Ruby, but he was surprised by how suddenly she was back on her feet. He’d barely managed to get his gum shield back in his mouth before Ruby had darted forward, grabbed his vest, hooked a leg behind his, and thrown him hard to the mat. Hallam’s back smacked into the canvas with a snap like a snare drum. He groaned, spat out the gum shield, then peered up at Ruby’s smirking face.

“What the hell was that?” complained Hallam, rubbing the back of his head.

“Osoto-gari,” said Ruby. She was still grinning, though she had also offered Hallam her arm. Hallam took it and Ruby helped to haul him back to his feet.

“Gary who?” Hallam said as Dakota ducked under the ropes to join them.

“Osoto-gari,” Ruby repeated, stressing the words a little more forcefully. “It’s a Judo throw.”

“You do realize that we’re supposed to be boxing, right?” Hallam replied, flexing his aching shoulder.

“What you actually said was ‘sparring’,” Ruby hit back. “And since you were kicking my ass, I decided to switch things up a bit.”

Dakota laughed and patted Ruby on the back. “Now why have I never thought of that before?”

“Maybe because you’re not a dirty cheat like Ruby?” replied Hallam, again teasing the pilot. Then he scowled and rubbed his chin contemplatively. “No, wait, you’re a dirty cheater too, I forgot.” Dakota and Ruby both let out affronted snorts.

“Oh, it’s on…” said Dakota, raising her guard.

“Come on, tanker man, let’s see what you’ve got,” Ruby chimed in, also raising her guard.

All three members of the Wolf Squadron then began play-sparring, mixing in kicks, punches, and a selection of what Hallam thought were clearly professional-wrestling moves, until the hideout’s general alarm chimed. They all stopped dead and cast anxious looks to one another.

“Maybe it’s just a drill?” suggested Dakota, always more the optimist than Hallam.

“I think we’ve seen enough action recently to not need any more practice,” Hallam said, pulling off his gloves and tossing them to the mat. “Come on, let’s find out what the latest disaster is.”

The three members of the Wolf Squadron hurried out of the gym and ran along the main central corridor of the base. Hallam then caught sight of Commander Castell racing toward them, also heading to the operations center. He was closely followed by Dr. Rand.

“If the doc is running, it’s definitely not a drill…” commented Hallam as the scientist spotted the squadron and held back to allow them all to catch up.

“What’s going on, Doc? Are we under attack?” asked Hallam, flexing the muscles in his aching neck. The effects of Ruby’s Judo throw had yet to wear off.

“No, but one of the other hideouts has put out a distress call,” said Dr. Rand, ushering Hallam, Dakota, and Ruby into the command center.

“Two mercenary fighters have attacked hideout MC2,” Castell called over from his command station in the center of the room. The configuration of the vessels matches those of the Blackfire Squadron.”

Hallam jogged up beside Castell and peered down at his console, with Dakota and the others hot on his heels.

“Only two?” said Hallam, trying to assimilate the information on the screens as rapidly as possible.

“Yes, the distress call specifically mentioned only two fighters,” Castell confirmed. “The report stated that one of them had some sort of skull emblem painted on the side.”

Hallam glanced at Dakota, and from the look on her face, he knew that she had understood the significance of the skull insignia too.

“So now we know that Alexis Black survived our tussle on Fortuna,” said Hallam while continuing to skim through the data. “But it also suggests that either Draga Vex or Cad Rikkard didn’t make it off Doyle’s rogue world.”

“Why is the hideout sending a distress call at all?” said Dakota, addressing the question to Castell. “The renegade bases were all briefed about Rikkard’s tactics and capabilities. They should be able to repel any assault, especially if the Blackfire Squadron is now reduced to just the two of them.”

“Their tactics have changed,” replied Castell ominously. The commander then brought up a schematic of the renegade base that was under attack on his main screen. “Somehow, they were able to circumvent the base’s defensive systems,” Castell continued while highlighting the hideout’s launch bay. “The turret cannons all lost power at the same time, and a long-range missile strike then destroyed the main fighter hangar.” Castell zoomed out the image of the schematic to show the base’s location on its rogue moon in relation to the two mercenary fighters, which were holding position in orbit above it.

“Why are they waiting?” asked Hallam. “Without needing to worry about cannons or fighters, they could destroy the base from orbit or assault it on foot if they wanted. Why just sit out in space?”

Dr. Rand shot Hallam a sideways glance, eyebrow raised. “I believe that is what they call the sixty-four-thousand-dollar question, Mr. Knight…”

“He wants to get our attention,” said Dakota. The statement cut through the confusion as effortlessly as Cad Rikkard’s Black Prince sword cutting through flesh. And now that Dakota had said it, it seemed obvious to Hallam that this was the mercenary’s plan. He wanted to draw the Wolf Squadron out of hiding to face him.

“So let’s give the self-important asshole what he wants,” suggested Hallam, shrugging. “We fly out there as a squadron and see what he has to say.”

Dr. Rand turned to Dakota. “I don’t need to tell you that this is likely to be a trap, but if Cad Rikkard, or whoever is in that second fighter, is able to defeat our defense grid, all of our bases are at risk. We need to know his intentions.”

Dakota nodded then looked to Hallam and Ruby in turn. “We’ll suit up and get out there right away.”

25

Hallam’s fighter dropped out of bridge space first, just over two thousand kilometers from the moon orbiting the rogue planet where the attacked hideout was located. His navigation computer chimed an alert to indicate that Ruby and Dakota had also dropped out of bridge space, both around a hundred kilometers from his position.

“Form up on me,” said Dakota over the squadron comm channel. “We advance in attack formation, nice and smooth, and be ready for anything.”

Ruby acknowledged the order, followed shortly by Hallam before the three ships began to maneuver into formation. The two mercenary fighters now also flashed up on Hallam’s scanner, though both had remained in position, hovering over the renegade hideout like birds of prey, waiting to swoop down on their quarry.

“I was beginning to wonder if you three would have the guts to show your faces again,” said the voice of Cad Rikkard, broadcast over an unsecured open comm channel. The mercenary sounded his usual, arrogant self, Hallam thought, but there was also an undercurrent of bitterness.

“Where’s your other degenerate partner?” Ruby replied, and Hallam grimaced, wishing that for once the second member of the Wolf Squadron would have kept her mouth in check. “You know, the psycho with the black eyeliner and lightning strike across her face?”

“Draga Vex is dead,” Cad replied. Oddly, there was no anger or sentiment in the mercenary’s voice, though the undertone of bitterness remained. Cad Rikkard allowed that bombshell to linger for a second, then added, “And you will all pay for her death. But that isn’t why I lured you here.”

“Then what do you want, Rikkard?” said Hallam, partly because he wanted the mercenary to get to the point, but also because he wanted to prevent Ruby from continuing to rub him up the wrong way.

“You already know what I want,” Cad spat back. “I want Rand alive, and I want all three of you dead. And this time, I’m going to get what I want.”

The formation of renegade ships closed to within a few hundred meters of the mercenary vessels, and Dakota slowed to a stop. The two squadrons hung in space, facing one another, like a deep-space Mexican standoff.

“You know that we won’t surrender Rand or give ourselves up,” said Hallam, though the fact that this went without saying made him nervous. Cad was about to lay his cards on the table, and he had no idea what his hand contained.

“Oh, you will,” replied Cad, his supreme confidence oozing through the speaker. “Or I will destroy every last renegade hideout and kill every renegade sympathizer, right down to the last man, woman, and child if I must.” The mercenary’s statement was delivered with a chilling detachment. And again, Hallam detected the bitter undertone that told him that this was no longer just a contract to Rikkard. It had become deeply personal. “And before you or your brash associate opens her insolent mouth again, I’ll show you exactly why you’ll bow to my demands,” Cad added.

Hallam’s console wailed an alarm, and his eyes widened as he saw a missile streak out from underneath the wing of Cad’s fighter.

Dakota called out, “Break, break, break!” over their private squadron comm channel, and Hallam threw his controls right and thrusted hard, readying a raft of countermeasures. However, he then realized the missile wasn’t heading toward their squadron. Instead, it had turned sharply and was racing toward the renegade base instead.

“Cover me, I’m going to try to shoot it down!” Dakota called out, and Hallam saw her fighter burn hard after the missile. Her voice sounded panicked and strained, as the g-forces of her ship’s sudden acceleration racked her body.

Hallam acknowledged Dakota then turned his ship back to the mercenary fighters, watching them keenly for any signs they were about to attack. However, both ships remained in position. Beyond launching the missile, neither had made an aggressive move.

“What are they doing?” Hallam heard Ruby call out over the squadron comm channel. He cast his eyes left and saw her fighter drawing up alongside his. Both of them were again staring down the gun turrets of the Blackfire Squadron vessels, which remained immobile, as if they were ghost ships.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like it,” replied Hallam, bringing up an enlarged image of the enemy fighters on one of his screens while keeping half an eye on Dakota’s position.

Both mercenary ships appeared to be cocooned in an additional layer of armor, as if they were protecting themselves against an attack or some other imminent danger. Hallam felt a pit in his stomach and focused back on his scanners, examining the readings from the missile launch.

What the hell am I missing… he thought while scouring the data. Dakota was almost within range, which also didn’t make sense. Cad would have known that we’d be able to shoot down the missile, Hallam thought. Why would he launch, knowing we could stop it? Broadening the scan data, Hallam then cursed as he finally spotted the missing component. His heart racing even faster than the missile, Hallam opened a direct channel to Dakota.

“Dak, pull up, now; it’s a nuke!” he yelled out, observing that there were now only seconds before the missile reached its target.

“What? That’s impossible!” Dakota cried, continuing in pursuit of the missile.

“Dak, trust me,” Hallam called back. “Turn and burn now, or you’ll get caught in the blast!”

He heard Dakota curse, then her fighter flipped on its axis and began to burn even harder in the opposite direction. Hallam knew that she’d first have to overcome her velocity toward the base before she could start to increase her distance from it, putting her dangerously close to the epicenter of the explosion.

Teeth gritted and muscles taut, Hallam was helpless as he saw the missile strike the cobbled-together collection of super freighters and tankers that comprised the renegade hideout. There was a sudden, bright flash of light, then the base and surrounding landscape on the moon were covered in the thick cloud of dust. Hallam turned his attention back to Dakota’s ship and saw her spinning out of control into the Darkspace.

26

The open comm channel to the mercenary fighters crackled, and Hallam again heard the honeyed, arrogant tones of Cad Rikkard in his ear.

“That is just a taste of what’s to come, Knight,” spat the mercenary. “Do you still intend to refuse my demands, or will you force me to annihilate more bases? The blood of the dead renegades will be on your hands, not mine.”

Hallam was about to yell a response that would have made even Ruby Rivas blush, but before he could curse the mercenary, he saw Ruby blast out ahead of him.

“Ruby, don’t!” Hallam cried over their squadron comm channel, realizing that she was going to attack, but it was already too late. Ruby had committed herself to the fight. Cannon rounds from Ruby’s guns thudded into Cad Rikkard’s mercenary fighter, but with its armadillo-like shell still in place, the attack was ineffective. Both mercenary fighters then broke hard, and Hallam saw some of their additional shields retract to allow for greater visibility and maneuverability. Cursing again, Hallam set off after Ruby. He knew that the mercenary fighters would be tough nuts to crack. The odds were heavily stacked against them in fighter-to-fighter combat. The Blackfire Squadron were not only exceptional pilots, but their heavily augmented fighters were superior to the renegade ships in every way.

“Ruby, break off!” This time, it was Dakota over the comm channel. “We have to get out of here!”

Hallam put himself into the fight, going after Alexis Black and drawing her away from Ruby. He fired a burst from his cannons, clipping the wing of the mercenary ship, but the damage was minor.

“Dak, are you okay?” Hallam called out as Alexis spun around and lined up her guns with Hallam’s fighter. Hallam cursed and thrust away, but strangely, Alexis did not fire, despite having him dead to rights.

“I just caught the edge of the explosion, so I’m going to need a minute to reset my systems and restart the Shelby Drive,” Dakota called back. “But I need both of you to spool up and get out of here right now. I’m in no condition to fight, and those mercenaries have us outgunned and outclassed.”

“No way, boss,” said Ruby, jerking her fighter through space while firing short bursts at Cad, who appeared to be toying with her. “We’re not leaving you here.”

“Ruby, at least get yourself ready to bridge,” said Hallam as he entered a reciprocal course into his Shelby Drive computer and initiated the program. “I’ll stay on your wing and help to hold these assholes off for as long as we can, and just hope it’s enough.”

“Damn it, Hal, not you too!” snapped Dakota. “Doesn’t anybody understand what a damn order means?”

“Hey, we’re renegades, remember?” said Hallam as he wrestled with his controls to line up Alexis Black in his sights. “Non-conforming is our thing…” Hallam fired another volley at Alexis and saw some of the rounds strike her ventral hull, but the armored shell prevented any serious damage.

“You’re quite good, Knight,” said the voice of Alexis Black over the open comm channel. However, it was not the playful Alexis, but the hard-nosed warrior that was speaking. “It’s almost a shame to kill you. Almost…” Alexis then pulled off a maneuver that Hallam didn’t even think was possible, and she again had him dead to rights. However, once again, the mercenary didn’t take the shot. “But when we eventually choose to kill you, it will be much more up close and personal,” Alexis added, her voice like a ghost in Hallam’s ear. “I wouldn’t miss the chance to see you begging and squirming at Cad’s boots.”

Hallam withdrew, not wanting to take the chance that Alexis would change her mind, and obliterate him then and there instead. His navigation computer chimed an alert and he saw that the Shelby Drive program was ready. Switching back to the squadron channel, he said, “I’m ready to bridge, Dak. How about you?”

There was a short pause before Dakota answered. “Just about, though I’m going to need to make some running repairs at the rendezvous coordinates. That nuke fritzed more systems than I knew I had.”

Hallam altered course and accelerated toward Dakota’s position. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to beat Alexis Black in the cockpit. And while he didn’t relish the prospect of being made to beg and squirm at Cad Rikkard’s boots, he preferred that possible future to the certainty of Alexis blowing him to atoms right then and there.

“Ruby, come on!” Hallam called out, watching her fighter continue her dogged pursuit of Cad Rikkard. However, it was clear now that the mercenary was toying with her on purpose. “We can’t beat them ship-to-ship, Ruby. Break off now!”

“Damn it, the armor on their fighters is thicker than Rikkard’s skull,” Ruby growled. Then Cad Rikkard’s mercenary vessel spun around in the blink of an eye, and Hallam saw its guns flash. Ruby took evasive action just in time to avoid a killing blow, but Hallam could see that she’d taken a serious hit. “To hell with this!” Ruby called out, turning to match Hallam’s course and burning hard away from the mercenary fighters.

The Blackfire Squadron pursued, but curiously, neither attempted to match Ruby’s acceleration curve, despite their ships being capable of even greater acceleration than the renegade fighters. Hallam again felt a pit in his stomach. He couldn’t imagine that Cad would just let them all leave completely unscathed, despite what he’d said. Then his console chimed and he saw another missile appear on his sensors. Hallam quickly scrutinized the data, panic swelling in his gut, but this time, it was a regular ship-to-ship missile, instead of a nuke. And it was heading directly for Ruby.

“Ruby, launch your countermeasures!” Hallam yelled, but Ruby’s fighter continued to offer no defense against the incoming missile. Hallam enhanced the image of her ship and discovered that her cockpit glass had been cracked, and that black smoke was pouring from her engines.

“They’re not working,” Ruby called back over the comm channel. “Half of my systems are overloading and the drive systems are failing!”

Hallam cursed and spun around, pushing his main engines as hard as his body could withstand. “You’ll have to eject,” he cried out, while at the same time depressurizing the cargo bay and lowering the rear ramp.

“Eject!” cried Ruby and Dakota, their voices in perfect harmony. “What the hell do you mean eject!” Dakota added.

“For once can you not argue?” Hallam hit back. Then he added a little more reticently, “Just point your cockpit toward my ship and punch out. I’ll catch you…”

“You’ll catch me!” yelled Ruby.

Hallam realized that his idea sounded crazy, and he couldn’t deny that it was a huge roll of the dice. However, the missile was now only seconds away from destroying Ruby’s ship. Ultimately, she had no choice. It was either eject or die. Hallam saw Ruby cut her failing engines and tip the nose of the ship forward, angling her cockpit at Hallam’s approaching fighter. Hallam blew out a tense breath and prepared himself. I was always more of a hitter than a catcher… he thought as his fingers flexed nervously around the controls.

“Dak, if ever there was a time to pat Bob the bear on the head, now is it…” said Hallam. Then the canopy of Ruby’s fighter blew off and the pilot was ejected into space inside her chair. A split-second later, the vessel was hit by the missile, engulfed in flames and blown into pieces. “Here goes nothing…” said Hallam, more to himself than to the others. He pulsed the thrusters to align his fighter with Ruby’s rapidly approaching ejection seat and held his breath. With a ready eye still on the scanners, he noted that the Blackfire Squadron fighters had both begun to accelerate harder. Cad had obviously figured out Hallam’s high-risk plan, but neither mercenary ship would be in range before he was. “Just hold on, Ruby!” called Hallam in an attempt to reassure her. Then he winced, realizing how redundant his statement was.

“Hold on!” Ruby cried back. “What the hell do you think I’m doing?”

Hallam gritted his teeth and cut his engines, spinning the ship around to align the cargo hold with Ruby’s approaching ejection seat. However, Ruby was still on course to miss him, and he had only a few seconds to adjust his position.

“Yo, tanker man, you’re in the wrong place!” yelled Ruby, the pitch of her voice rising ever higher with each word.

Hallam hated Ruby’s nickname for him, and he briefly considered letting the snarky pilot sail off into the Darkspace. Instead, he continued to make micro adjustments using the thrusters, altering his position and angle, until he finally had Ruby lined up to slot directly into the hold. Unfortunately, their closing velocity was still too high. Unless he reduced their relative speed, Ruby would end up as a smear on his cargo bay wall. At least that would shut her up… Hallam considered before pushing the thought aside and placing his hand delicately on the main throttle. Hallam blipped the engines in controlled bursts, watching their relative speed steadily reduce to a safe velocity. However, as Ruby drew close enough that she could have flipped Hallam the bird, the final burst from the main engines kicked her off course.

“Hallam!” Ruby screamed.

However, all Hallam could hear was the blood pumping furiously in his ears. He engaged the thrusters again, flying on gut instinct alone, and pushed the ship back in line with barely a second to spare. He heard and felt the thud of Ruby’s ejector seat hammer against the bulkhead, and practically punched the button to close the ramp.

“Dak, we’re clear; get gone already!” Hallam yelled, pushing his throttle forward and starting the Shelby Drive sequence. Flopping back into his chair, Hallam let out a huge exhalation of pent-up breath and watched the countdown tick down on his screen.

Twelve, eleven… Hallam counted in his head.

“I could kill you right now if I wanted to, Knight,” Cad Rikkard said over the open comm channel, his voice hushed and sinister.

…ten, nine…

“But I want you to know that I’m choosing to let you go,” Cad continued, his words oozing out like venom from a viper’s fangs.

…eight… seven…

“But you can’t run forever. One day soon, we’ll meet face-to-face.”

…six… five…

“And then you’ll admit that I beat you. You’ll lie broken at my feet and confess that I am the superior man. You’ll beg me for your life…”

four… three…

“…and then, Knight, you will die.”

two… one…

Hallam’s renegade fighter was consumed by the swirling red energy of bridge space, and the voice of Cad Rikkard vanished. Hallam should have felt safe and relieved, he realized, but he experienced none of those emotions. Cad Rikkard’s words were still echoing in his ears. He now understood the true meaning of the message the mercenary had wanted to convey. The offer of sparing the renegade hideouts from destruction on the condition he and the others surrendered was a façade. And the veneer that coated that lie had also been paper thin. The mercenary’s true motivations were now as clear as starlight. Cad Rikkard wanted revenge, but more than this, he wanted to belittle Hallam and make him beg for his life. He didn’t just want him beaten. He wanted him broken.

The Wolf and Blackfire squadrons were no longer sparring. There were no longer any rules, and no count outs or submissions. The gloves had come off, and this was now a fight to the death, no holds barred. However, that went both ways, Hallam told himself. If Cad Rikkard wanted to go to war, then Hallam would ride out to face him on the battlefield. Because in a fight between Cad Rikkard’s ego and the future of the human race, the mercenary leader of the Blackfire Squadron could not be permitted to win.

27

Hallam jumped down from his fighter as Ruby Rivas was hurriedly loaded onto a stretcher and rushed toward the medical bay. She had taken a hard knock after Hallam had caught her in the cargo bay, like a lacrosse stick catching a ball. Luckily, her injuries were not critical, and she had still been conscious when Hallam had landed back at Dr. Rand’s hideout. Yet it was the closest call that any of them had experienced. A second was all that had separated Ruby from survival versus a cold, lonely death in the Darkspace.

Dakota ran to Hallam’s side, and without thinking, he pulled her into an embrace. He’d almost lost her twice in as many days, and it seemed that each time they faced the Blackfire Squadron, their odds of survival were getting slimmer. The embrace initially appeared to catch Dakota by surprise, but she quickly returned it, squeezing him tighter. She then slid her hand onto the back of Hallam’s neck and peered into his eyes.

“That was too close,” she said softly. Hallam realized that they were both shaking. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” replied Hallam, glancing at Ruby’s stretcher, which was already disappearing through the doorways, a team of medics at its side. “But Ruby almost didn’t make it. I caught her out of pure luck, rather than skill or judgment.”

Hallam spotted Dr. Rand hurrying toward them across the hangar deck. He and Dakota swiftly released their grips on one another and waited for her to arrive, trying to look nonchalant. Dakota smoothed back her hair and looked idly around the bay, while Hallam shoved his hands in his pockets and scuffed his boots on the deck, each of them trying to appear like they were just coincidentally hanging out in the same place.

“What happened?” said Dr. Rand. She’d either not noticed their embrace or chosen not to mention it.

“Cad Rikkard wanted to make a statement, and he made one, alright,” said Dakota. “He’s discovered a way to disable the defense grids, and he claims to know where the rest of the hideouts are. Unless we give ourselves up. You, me, Hallam, and Ruby. He’ll destroy them all.” Then Dakota shrugged. “To be honest, I think he’ll attack them anyway, no matter what we do.”

“The worst part is, he’s somehow managed to get hold of nuclear missiles,” Hallam chipped in, adding the one crucial element that Dakota hadn’t mentioned.

“Nuclear missiles?” Dr. Rand repeated. Out of everything the scientist had just been told, this fact seemed to shock and worry her the most. “Even Doyle would not be that reckless.”

“I don’t think Rikkard is following Damien Doyle’s playbook anymore,” said Dakota. “One of his squadron, the mercenary called Draga Vex, got killed back on the rogue world.”

Hallam nodded enthusiastically. “It’s definitely about Rikkard’s own personal revenge now, and that makes him much more dangerous.” Then he glanced at Dakota, adding, “He let me go back there. He wants to take us out face-to-face, up close and personal.”

Dakota snorted. “I’d like to see that asshole try. If it wasn’t for his fancy power armor, I’d kick his ass all across the twelve systems.”

“You will get your chance, Miss Wulfrun, but park that thought for the moment,” said Dr. Rand, mirroring Dakota’s steely resolve. She then indicated for Hallam and Dakota to walk with her, and they set off at a brisk pace in the direction of the operations command center. “However, we must not lose sight of our goal. If Cad Rikkard is telling the truth, and he does know the locations of the other bases, we will have to further accelerate our plans to destroy the Centrum.” Then she glanced to Hallam, eyebrow raised. “But there was also another development while you were gone.”

Dr. Rand left her mysterious statement hanging in the air until they reached the command center. The scientist led them inside the briefing room that they’d all become familiar with, and tapped a rapid sequence of commands into the computer. A varied collection of BridgeNet and dark BridgeNet forums pages and conspiracy theory websites appeared above the holo projector, including some small independent news channels. Hallam didn’t know where to start, so he picked one of the entries at random and read the headline. Then he had to read it again and read several more headlines just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him.

“Dr. Shelby Rand alive and leader of notorious Darkspace Renegades…” Hallam said, reading a random entry out loud, though the astonishment was evident in his voice. “Randenite to blame for gravitational anomalies… Thirteenth bridge world cover up scandal… Damien Doyle hid secret alien research center… Alien robots will doom us all.” Hallam snorted a laugh and pointed to the last entry. “I like that one,” he said, grinning. Dr. Rand, however, was not amused, and so Hallam quickly changed his tune to a more somber melody. “Where is all this coming from, Doc?” he asked, wiping the grin from his face. “And how come Doyle’s censorship net hasn’t scrubbed them already?”

Dr. Rand tapped at the console for a couple more seconds and the online profile of an unknown hacker appeared on the holo. The mugshot was merely a blank silhouette, while the name simply read “Falken.”

“I’m guessing this Falken person isn’t some sort of bird lover?” said Hallam, skim-reading the profile.

“Ornithology is not this person’s specialty, no,” replied Dr. Rand, folding her arms and scrutinizing the information. “She is a notorious hacker. Perhaps the most notorious hacker of the last century. And, by all accounts, a genius.”

“And she’s responsible for all of the stories that have been flooding onto the BridgeNet?” asked Dakota, sounding just as surprised as Hallam.

“Yes, and she claims to have proof too,” Dr. Rand answered. “Proof of my continued existence, knowledge of the incident at Damien Doyle’s rogue world complex, and of how Shelby Drive technology is responsible for damaging the bridges and causing the gravitational anomalies.”

Dakota let out a long, high-pitched whistle. “I don’t suppose we know where she’s getting this all from?” she asked.

“Not as yet,” admitted Dr. Rand. “However, what is remarkable is not the content, but the fact that it’s being believed and rapidly spread. I have tried to plant similar seeds inside the dark BridgeNet many times before, but Doyle’s censorship network scrubbed them before they could ever gain traction. Falken appears to have started a fire that even Doyle’s vast online security net cannot contain.”

Hallam peered at the anonymous outline of the hacker and chewed the inside of his mouth. “Maybe we can try to contact or even locate this Falken character?” he suggested, feeling buoyed by the receipt of some good news for a change. “If she has this much sway online, she could help us to break through Doyle’s firewall and finally get our message heard broadly. If we can turn people against Doyle and the Consortium, it will certainly help our cause.”

Dr. Rand nodded. “I had a similar thought, but that’s a matter for another time. We can’t rely on public support or the support of planetary governments,” the scientist went on. “Do not forget that Damien Doyle has bought or blackmailed a great number of people in positions of power.”

“And even if there was support, it would take time to convince people to stop bridge travel,” said Dakota, agreeing with Dr. Rand. “There would be investigations and high-level summits and who knows what else. By the time anyone got around to acting, it would be too late.”

Hallam rubbed his aching neck and considered what both of them had said, but although he hoped sense would prevail, Dakota was right. The gears of the bureaucratic machine were slow and complex, and even a weakened Damien Doyle would still have significant political influence.

“But I lost the alien probe component,” said Hallam, drawing his hand away from his aching muscles and folding them across his chest. “And with the rogue world gone, how are we supposed to get another?”

The scientist cleared the holo display and threw up a new image of a planet. Hallam squinted at the world, feeling that there was something vaguely familiar about it, though the continents didn’t match those of Earth, or any of the twelve bridge worlds. Hallam’s eyes then widened as he recognized the distinctive s-shaped continent in the northern hemisphere and remembered where he’d seen the planet before. Dr. Rand had shown it to him the first time they had met. However, the excitement at this epiphany was tempered by the sudden understanding of what the scientist was about to propose.

“You want us to go to the thirteenth bridge world and find another alien probe?” said Hallam, though speaking the words out loud only made them sound more ludicrous.

Dakota laughed and cocked her head at Hallam, as if to say, “ha, ha, good one…” However, she then met Dr. Rand’s unyielding eyes and her face fell. “You’re serious?” said Dakota, still locked on to Dr. Rand like a missile.

“It will be a challenge, but one that is not insurmountable,” Dr. Rand answered coolly.

“Not insurmountable? But isn’t that whole star system in chaos?” Dakota continued, clearly stunned that Dr. Rand was seriously suggesting they travel to the stricken alien world. “With all the gravitational instability in that system, how could we even hope to navigate to the planet, never mind land on it?”

Hallam leant forward and rested his elbows on the circular table, eager to hear Dr. Rand’s explanation. He too was highly skeptical about the mission, but given the scientist’s secretive nature, he was guessing this suggestion was not just thrown into the mix on a whim. When Dr. Rand answered, he knew his hunch had been correct.

“I have visited the alien system several times in the last few years,” Dr. Rand began. She tapped her console, which made the image draw back from the planet to show the entire star system. “And while I was there, I deployed some probes of my own.”

Dr. Rand tapped the console again, and the representation of the star system began to animate, showing the chaotic orbits of the planets. On the face of it, Dakota seemed to be right, Hallam thought. There was no way they could possibly navigate through such a anarchic planetary system. Then the display updated again and began moving much more slowly. As it did so, a route was highlighted through space, snaking across the system in what seemed like a random path, until it finally connected with one of the planets.

“What appears, on the face of it, to be chaos, is in fact not,” said Dr. Rand, pointing to the new route that had appeared. “Though it may not obey the established laws of physics, the thirteenth system is actually stable. Using my probes, I’ve been able to re-build the gravitational map that I created during my initial expedition for Doyle ten years ago. I will need more time to plan, but I believe we can reach the alien planet at a precise point in its orbit where we can safely walk on the surface.”

Hallam stayed silent while he pondered the idea further. It was clearly dangerous, but he didn’t see another option. He then glanced across to Dakota in an attempt to gauge her openness to the idea. However, judging from the deepening furrows across Dakota’s brow, he guessed that she was less than enthused at the prospect of visiting the alien homeworld.

“You’re actually considering this?” said Dakota.

“I trust the doc can get us there,” replied Hallam. Then he shrugged and sighed audibly. “Honestly, Dak, I don’t see that we have a choice.”

Dakota laughed and shook her head. “And I thought Ruby was the crazy one.” Then she also sighed and leant onto the circular table, mimicking Hallam’s own stance before meeting Dr. Rand’s eyes. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but when can we be ready to leave?”

28

Cad Rikkard followed Falken up the stairs to the mezzanine level of her mountain lair on Vediovis. For once, she had opened the door promptly, which Cad had put down to her obvious eagerness to get hold of the data he was offering. Conversely, her constant prattling during the long walk to the mezzanine had been entirely consistent with all their other visits to the hacker’s domain.

“So, do you have the data, then?” said Falken, practically skipping to her enormous, high-backed chair in front of rows of computers and displays.

Alexis followed Cad onto the mezzanine and her attention was immediately drawn to a nineteen eighties movie playing on Falken’s old-fashioned cinema setup. A man holding a whip and a gold statue was running through a cave tunnel, chased by a giant boulder. Alexis walked over to the plush leather recliner, picked up the remote control for the system, and turned off the screen.

“Not a fan?” said Falken.

Like Cad, the hacker had apparently assumed that Alexis would grab some snacks and sit down to watch the movie.

“I’m not really in the mood,” replied Alexis flatly, hanging a few meters back from Falken’s desk and folding her arms tightly.

Cad then tossed a data device onto the desk, which slid across the smooth surface and slipped inside an empty popcorn packet. Falken hurriedly fished it out, spilling crumbs all over her pants, then dropped it onto a device reader.

“So let’s see what we have…” Falken said while skimming through the files, tongue poking out of the corner of her mouth. She stopped on the video recording of the rogue world’s destruction, taken by Cad’s shipboard camera, and started to play it on a holo screen. Falken watched the recording for a short time, eyes wide and, at least in Cad’s assessment, more than a little fearful. “What planet is this?” said Falken, pointing at the display. “Or which one was it, at least. It doesn’t look like there’s much left.”

“That was Damien Doyle’s top-secret planet, at the other end of the bridge from the Vestan asteroid field,” replied Cad levelly. “The anomaly you will see later in that recording is what’s causing the gravitational instabilities on Vesta and its moon.” Falken went back to skimming through the files, her foot tapping on the metal floor at a hundred beats per minute the whole time. “Amongst other things, you’ll also find a security feed from Pales, clearly showing Rand,” Cad continued as the tapping grew louder. “Also edited recordings of my conversations with Damien Doyle that I logged in secret, and sensor data to back up the video recordings.”

Falken didn’t answer. She was now completely engrossed in the files, head on a swivel, eyes flicking from one screen to another. And all the while her foot-tapping grew faster and louder. Cad closed his eyes and drew in long, deep breaths of the stale air inside the mountain lair, but he was unable to quell the fire building inside him. Swiftly drawing his reforged Black Prince sword from its scabbard, he stabbed it at Falken’s tapping foot. The drumming immediately stopped, and Falken’s eyes shot down to see the blade impaled through the toe of her shoe and into the metal plating beneath it.

“You can read all this data when we’ve gone,” said Cad, pulling the blade clear and sheathing it again. His tone had remained amiable, despite his actions suggesting otherwise. Falken glanced down at her foot and waggled her toes inside the now split-open shoe. All five were still attached, and her relief was palpable. “Do you have the item we requested?” Cad asked as Falken slipped off her shoe and pulled her foot up onto the seat of the chair. She was staring down at it, like it was an alien appendage.

“Yeah, it’s right there,” Falken said, pointing to the other side of the desk, though she was still examining her foot. “That was an amazing shot,” she added, waggling her toes. “How did you manage to miss?”

“I wasn’t trying to miss,” said Cad, brushing half-empty soda bottles and an assortment of snack wrappers of the desk. Then he saw a blue metal case the size of a pack of cards. He flicked the chip packet off it and picked it up. “Is this it?” said Cad, highly doubtful that the anonymous-looking object could achieve what he required of it.

“That’s it, alright,” chirped Falken, who had now also slipped off her remaining shoe and was sitting cross-legged on the chair. “You’ll need to interface it with a computer, but it will do the job. It’s military grade. I had to call in quite a few favors to get one.”

Cad’s eyes flicked from the device to the young woman. “Costly favors, I’m guessing?”

Falken shrugged, then said, “I’ve given you a discount, on account of the data and all.”

“I don’t care about the cost, so long as it works,” Cad grunted in reply, handing the device to Alexis, who had now moved alongside him.

Alexis inspected the little blue box for a moment then removed a small palm computer from her back pocket. “How long will this device need to override a bot’s command protocols?” said Alexis, her eyes scrutinizing the information on the palm computer’s screen.

“Depends on the bot,” replied Falken, shrugging again. “If you’re talking something like a cleaner bot, then only seconds, whereas something like a Theta-class warbot might take a couple of minutes. During which time you’d probably be dead, of course.”

Cad folded his arms and scowled at Falken. “Fought many Theta-class warbots, have you?” he said scornfully.

Falken seemed to take the hint. “Erm, well, no. But you know what I mean.”

“And what about something top-of-the-line, custom coded for maximum personal protection?” asked Alexis while still working on the device. A cleaner bot scurried over as she was talking and stopped at the edge of the mezzanine. Falken frowned at it, and ordered it back to work, but the bot refused to comply. Alexis then whistled, as if trying to attract the attention of a dog, and the cleaner bot kamikaze-dove off the ledge, smashing into pieces on the level below a couple of seconds later.

“Aw, come on, do you know how hard those things are to put back together?” complained Falken, springing out of her chair to peer over the balcony railings at her now defunct cleaner bot.

“Whoops,” said Alexis with a wicked smirk.

“How long for something top-of-the line,” Cad said, rolling his eyes at Alexis, who just continued smirking.

“You mean like something that might protect a planetary governor, or maybe someone like Damien Doyle?” asked Falken, returning to her high-backed chair.

“Exactly like that,” replied Cad, his tone level. He didn’t want Falken to know his plan, though he suspected she would later try to find out.

Falken scrunched up her nose and pressed one of her eyes tight shut, which seemed to indicate that some level of deep thought process was occurring. “Well, assuming anyone was crazy enough to put a warbot in that position, I’d say maybe three to five minutes tops,” Falken eventually answered, spinning her bare feet back up onto the chair and scrutinizing the files again. “The only way it might take longer is if I’d coded the security protocol myself,” she added absent-mindedly. “But that sort of work is, well, too much like actual work.”

Cad glanced across to Alexis and she looked up from the screen and smiled. “This will do the trick,” she said, slipping both devices into her back pocket. Cad nodded and both of them turned to leave, but unexpectedly, Falken called out to them.

“Hey, these gravitational anomalies,” Falken said, pointing at the holo display, which was now showing fragments of the rogue world heading toward the aurora-like strip of energy. “Dr. Rand can stop them, right? I mean, that’s what she’s out there doing, right? Trying to stop the Consortium so that this doesn’t happen to the other planets?”

The fearfulness had returned to Falken’s voice, and Cad could sense the hacker’s need for reassurance. The need to be given hope and to be told that everything was going to be fine. However, the truth was that Cad knew everything wasn’t going to be fine. Even if Rand succeeded, the bridge worlds would quickly become cut off from one another, eventually plunging them all into lawless anarchy. It would be a slow and agonizing death for most people. The sort of deaths he planned for Hallam Knight and Dakota Wulfrun. And if Rand failed, then everyone would die anyway, just sooner. In Cad’s eyes, the only difference between the outcomes was the length of time the bridge worlds spent on death row.

“If I were you, I’d stock up your little bunker with something more sustaining than sodas and potato chips,” said Cad, meeting Falken’s anxious eyes. “Because the Armageddon that your whacko friends on the dark BridgeNet prophesized was coming is already on its way.”

Falken’s face flushed of blood and she suddenly looked queasy. “You’re serious?” she said. Cad merely nodded. “But doesn’t that bother you? I mean, can’t you do something?”

“We all die eventually,” said Cad, his words so cold that his breath could have turned to frost. “But some will die much sooner than others.”

Then Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black turned away from Falken and headed back to their mercenary fighters, sitting in the snow on the platform outside Falken’s lair. The impending apocalypse didn’t faze Cad at all. If the worlds were all to crumble, so be it, he’d told himself. All that mattered now was winning. All that mattered now was proving he was the superior man. He’d lay waste to the other renegade hideouts and slowly close the net around Knight, Wulfrun, and Rand, until there was nowhere left in the galaxy for them to hide. Cad Rikkard would have his revenge, and nothing and no one would get in his way.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

Thank you for reading Rogue World, book three in Darkspace Renegade.

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ALSO IN THE SERIES

Darkspace Renegade

Wolf Squadron

Rogue World

Rikkard’s Revenge

Renegade Resurgence

Centrum Incursion

Also by GJ Ogden

If you enjoyed this book, please consider reading The Star Scavenger Series or The Contingency War Series Both are free to read for Kindle Unlimited subscribers and available as Audible boxed sets.

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.

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