Rogue World: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Darkspace Renegade Book 3)

by G J Ogden

  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, i
s 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.”