by G J Ogden
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 h
im 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.