by G J Ogden
“Unless it fixes the bridges so we can use them again, it’s of no help to me whatsoever,” snapped Stone.
“Oh, it’s much more useful than that,” said Dr. Rand, which perked Stone’s interest again. “Allow me to give you a demonstration…” Dr. Rand then aimed the device at the group of Enforcer bots and pulled the trigger. The device emitted a vibrant, resonant thrum then released a flash of energy, which struck the formation of Enforcer bots. Violent crackles and arcs of electricity erupted from each machine’s cranial unit, then they all toppled over like paper cups caught in a gentle breeze. Before anyone could react, Dr. Rand had fired two similar bursts at the dropships hovering overhead, causing both to instantly lose power. The aircraft veered wildly off course then crashed out of sight over the side of the building.
While this was going on, Dexter Stone had crouched into a ball, covering his head to protect himself from the explosions and electrical sparks that had rippled all around him. However, the commandant now stood tall again, eyes burning into Dr. Rand like lasers.
“It’s a directed, high-power microwave gun,” said Dr. Rand, even though no one had asked. The weapon also began to crackle and fizz and the scientist deftly tossed it aside. “I designed it as a countermeasure, should criminal elements ever manage to replicate warbot technology. I’m afraid it remains somewhat temperamental, though,” she added as the microwave weapon exploded a few meters away from them, like a box of firecrackers.
“You’re still coming with me!” Stone yelled, marching toward Dr. Rand, red-faced. “I have a hundred more Enforcers in this area. You can’t escape!”
Hallam was quickly at the scientist’s side, and in a flash, he’d thrown a measured punch at Stone, cracking the bridge of his nose like an egg. The man howled and staggered back before dropping to one knee, blood gushing down his face.
“This isn’t over,” Stone snarled, clawing and spitting bloody mucus from his mouth. His voice now came across sounding slightly comedic, the way that people sound when they hold their noses and talk at the same time. “Mark my words!” Stone blurted, spitting blood onto his pants.
Dakota stepped beside Dr. Rand and Hallam, grenade launcher back in her grasp. “What shall we do with him?” she asked, though the question was directed at no one in particular.
“He’s lucky I didn’t already cave in his self-righteous head, instead of just giving him a bloody nose,” said Hallam, though he had to admit that popping Stone on the nose had felt immensely satisfying.
“We already have everything we need, right here,” said Dr. Rand, looking at Hallam and Dakota as she said this, rather than the metal cases standing beside the fighter. “Come on, we still have work to do.”
The Darkspace Renegades turned their backs on Dexter Stone, leaving him on his knees, cradling his broken nose. As they drew closer to the mercenary fighter, Dr. Rand’s palm computer bleeped a message. She plucked the device from her pocket and read it, her eyes growing wider as they scanned each new line of text.
“Good news, I hope?” said Dakota, still keeping half an eye on Stone.
“Curious news,” replied Dr. Rand. “But yes, potentially also good.”
Hallam waited for the scientist to elaborate, but as usual, he had to eke the information out of her. “Come on, Doc, don’t leave us hanging!”
Dr. Rand raised an exasperated eyebrow at Hallam before answering. “The hacker known as Falken wishes to meet,” she said. “Apparently, she wants to help spread the word and aid us in our cause.”
“That does sound like good news,” said Dakota, though she was a little uncertain. “It is good news, right?”
“I suppose there is only one way to find out,” replied Dr. Rand. “That she was even able to locate me on the Dark BridgeNet and send a message suggests her talents are not exaggerated. I could use someone of her abilities to help complete the work on my equipment.”
“But where is she?” asked Hallam, quickly adding, “and please don’t say it’s another rogue world, or a swamp, or alien planet filled with lunatic killing machines.”
Dr. Rand again raised an exasperated eyebrow at Hallam. “None of those, no, Mr. Knight.” she answered coolly. “She appears to have a facility on Vediovis.”
Hallam snorted a laugh. “Why don’t any of these people live on nice planets, like Tellus or Janus?” he grumbled. He then picked up the two cases of equipment and loaded them inside the cargo area of the fighter. Dr. Rand climbed up the ramp behind him, but Dakota was still standing on the rooftop.
“Dak, come on!” Hallam called over to Dakota. “Unless you want me to do the flying?”
Dakota didn’t answer Hallam’s call, and instead lifted the grenade launcher, pressing the butt into her shoulder. She aimed it toward Dexter Stone, who peered down the barrel of the weapon and froze before meekly raising his hands. Hallam’s heart started thumping in his chest, fearing that Dakota was about to turn the new President of the Consortium into a fleshy splat on the roof. However, Dakota then elevated her aim and fired. The grenade soared over Dexter Stone’s smooth head and smashed through the cockpit glass of his CSF Enforcer dropship, which was still parked twenty meters behind him. The grenade detonated, and the craft was engulfed in an enormous orange fireball. Stone spun around, covering his head with his blood-soaked hands, as flaming debris rained down around him.
Dakota unloaded the grenade launcher, casually rested it over her shoulder, then promenaded up the rear ramp of the fighter.
“Was that really necessary, Miss Wulfrun?” said Dr. Rand, switching to her mother-scolding-a-teenager voice.
“No,” replied Dakota with a smirk. “But it sure was satisfying.”
25
A masked and unidentified waiter entered Cad Rikkard’s private booth and placed a bottle of vintage champagne down on the table. Without acknowledging Cad or Alexis in any way, the waiter then set down two crystal flutes and popped open the bottle. The waiter, which could have been a man or a woman – Cad had no way to know – was wearing a visor as part of the stylish, deep purple uniform. The purpose of the visor was to completely cut off the waiter’s field of view below the nose, so that he or she couldn’t see the clientele they were serving. Cad ducked his head in an attempt to peek underneath the visor, but the waiter, who Cad was now fairly confident was a woman, simply bowed her head, thwarting Cad’s efforts to steal a look at her face. Alexis attempted a similar maneuver, but somehow the waiter always managed to ensure that they neither fully saw her or – more importantly – she never saw them. The waiter then promptly exited the private alcove without saying a word.
“You were right about this place being private. Those waiters are good,” said Cad, pouring the champagne into the glasses. He then handed one of the flutes to Alexis and reclined back on the plush dark purple couch with the second glass in his hand. “How did you know about this club anyway?” he added, taking a sip of the champagne, which was exquisite, as it should have been for nine thousand dollars per bottle.
“If I told you, then you’d be insanely jealous,” replied Alexis coyly.
Cad snorted, though it wasn’t so much a laugh as a grunt of displeasure. “Is the man I have to kill still around here somewhere?” he said, playing along with Alexis’ game. Since defeating and killing Damien Doyle and dispensing with the Crimson Lynx squad, his appreciation for her playful diversions had returned. However, his tolerance had limits, and a stab of jealousy was already jabbing at his gut. If Alexis had been referring to a former lover, Cad was only half-joking about finding and killing him.
“Who said it was a man?” said Alexis with a flirtatious smile that dimpled her cheeks.
“Now I’m more aroused than jealous,” Cad replied, returning a roguish smile of his own.
Alexis grinned then slapped Cad across his face. The crack of the strike was even louder than the pop of the champagne cork moments earlier. However, before the sting had even begun to subside, Alexis had leant across and kissed Cad’s face where
her teasing blow had landed. “Keep your mind on the job, Mr. Rikkard,” Alexis said, taking a sip from the crystal flute. “We’re only here to lie low for a while until the data modifications have populated throughout the BridgeNet. A full celebration will have to wait.”
Cad grunted then threw back the contents of his glass and set it back down on the table. Pulling Damien Doyle’s tablet computer out of a satchel bag resting on the sofa at his side, he began to skim through the secrets it contained, all of which were now downloaded into his ship’s computer. As expected, the device no longer had access to Damien Doyle’s accounts and systems, but it had already fulfilled the function Cad needed of it. This had included transferring a cool five hundred million dollars from several of Doyle’s numerous accounts into his own private account. What had amused Cad more than stealing money from the now-deceased magnate was that the sums he had taken would probably not even be noticed as missing for several months, if ever.
The data changes that Alexis had referred to had also been made before their access to Doyle’s systems had been abruptly severed. After blasting off from the multi-trillionaire’s Governors Island tower in New York, the CSF had quickly put out an interplanetary APB for Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black. After news of Doyle’s death had gone public, Dexter Stone had stepped up to the plate and taken charge of the operation, gaining widespread support and cooperation from local enforcer organizations in the process. As such, the Blackfire Squadron was now the target of an interstellar manhunt on a scale never before seen in human history.
Even Cad had been forced to admit that they couldn’t evade thousands of CSF enforcer squads for long. So, on Alexis’ recommendation, the Blackfire Squadron had escaped to the leisure planet of Feronia, using the self-bridging drive technology in Cad’s fighter to avoid the usual interplanetary travel routes. Doyle’s unlocked tablet had allowed them to monitor the CSF Enforcer channels and slip past the hundreds of patrols and checkpoints that had been set up to look for them. More importantly, it had also allowed Alexis to alter the registry ID and description of their fighter, so that the CSF they would simply read the vessel as a completely innocent private trading ship.
Additionally, the tablet had provided the key to accessing Feronia’s exclusive private members resort on Paradise Island, south of the main strip. Cad and Alexis were now sitting in the opulent “Chatham House Club,” which – for an exorbitant price – uniquely guaranteed anonymity for its clientele. It even provided a shielded underground docking area for personal spacecraft.
How Alexis knew of the place, and even more importantly, how she was able to get them inside, was still something that intrigued Cad greatly. However, he was willing to let it slide, on account of the fact that the venue would keep them off the CSF’s radar. And it also provided time to allow the modifications to their ship registry and description to filter throughout the entire BridgeNet. When they finally emerged again into the warm, clean Feronian air, the CSF would be unable to locate them. This would allow Cad and Alexis to not only hide in plain sight, but continue their pursuit of Hallam Knight and Dakota Wulfrun unhindered by the Consortium’s efforts to track them down.
“We’ll need to find a new place to re-stock, now that Vesta is a burning rock of nothing,” said Alexis. As she spoke, Alexis was running her finger around the rim of her glass, making it sing like one of Feronia’s tropical birds. “It’s a shame that this planet doesn’t have any shipyards that stock weapons and any other gear we might need. Feronia seems to be the only bridge world that isn’t losing its mind, and descending into riots and chaos over these gravitational anomalies.”
Cad placed the computer back into the satchel, then topped up both champagne glasses. He could sense that Alexis was working up to something, but quite what it was, he wasn’t yet sure.
“We can pick up some small arms here if needed,” Cad said, again relaxing back on the sofa. “But my ship already has everything we need to take care of Knight and the renegades.”
Alexis switched to tapping the side of the glass with her fingernail, ringing it like a bell. “I hope this planet is still here after we take Knight and the others down,” she said in an off-hand sort of way that, ironically, Cad knew meant she was trying to make a serious point. “Minerva and Vesta are gone, and these anomalies are spreading. According to talk on the Dark BridgeNet, this planet will be hit soon, and also Orcus, Pomona, Vediovis, even Earth.”
“You think we should let Rand and the renegades complete their mission before we kill Knight? Is that what this is all about?” said Cad, cutting to the crux of what he believed Alexis was trying to say.
Alexis met his eyes and switched from toying with her glass to twirling the raven skull pendant hanging from her neck. “We can hardly celebrate our victory if there are no habitable planets left in the galaxy,” she said, finally speaking plainly. “Where would we go?”
“There’s still the moon Rand used as her personal hideout,” replied Cad, shrugging. Though, in truth, he had no desire to spend the rest of his life in isolation on that empty little world.
“Sure, or we can just jump blindly around the galaxy until our fuel runs out, in the hope of finding a friendly alien species that just so happens to be looking for two experienced mercenaries to hire,” Alexis hit back.
“There’s no need for sarcasm,” Cad grunted. He was now sloshing the champagne around his glass, spilling some of the fiendishly expensive liquid onto the plush purple fabric of the sofa.
“Look, if you want to kill Knight now, then we kill him, and whatever will be, will be,” snapped Alexis, suddenly switching gears and taking on more of her harder-edged persona. She had stopped toying with either the champagne flute or her distinctive pendant and was leaning forward, eyes locked on to Cad. “All I’m saying is why not let them finish their task first? Imagine how much sweeter it will be to kill Knight and Wulfrun when they think they’ve won? When they think they’re safe? The bonus being we still have somewhere to live and work when this is all over.”
Cad sighed and placed his glass back on the table. He then leaned in toward Alexis, like two boxers squaring off at a press conference. He couldn’t deny that what she had said made sense, but to him, the notion of allowing Hallam Knight to win – in any way, shape, or form – was simply unthinkable. It would mean that Knight had beaten him and accomplished what Cad had sworn to deny him. Killing was easy. Winning was what mattered. Cad had to prove that he was superior and force Hallam Knight to admit this to his face. He couldn’t do that if the renegade had already succeeded in his mission, despite all of Cad’s attempts to thwart him, even if that meant leaving the fate of the Bridge Worlds to the gods.
“The plan is already in motion,” Cad said, now switching gears as Alexis had done. “When the call comes through, we go, and we finish this. Then, as you say, whatever will be, will be.”
If Cad’s statement had provoked an emotional response from Alexis, he could not detect one. Not a single muscle in her face had even so much as twitched. The only part of her entire body that had moved at all was a strand of her hair, blown by the breath of Cad’s voice.
“Okay,” said Alexis, eventually breaking the silence. “Whatever will be, will be.”
Their exchange was interrupted by a soft bleeping sound coming from somewhere inside their private alcove. Cad sat back and began to search around for the source of the noise, his brow turned into a scowl. Then he realized it was coming from his satchel. Still scowling, Cad placed Damien Doyle’s tablet computer back onto the table and peered at it with anxious eyes.
“It shouldn’t be possible for anyone to get a signal down here?” said Alexis, glaring at the device with matching intensity and suspicion.
Cad grunted then tentatively turned on the device, half-expecting it to explode in his face. Instead, a message appeared on the screen.
“It’s Falken,” said Cad, causing Alexis to roll her eyes and relax back on the sofa with a relieved exhalation of breath.
&nbs
p; “Of course it is,” said Alexis, picking up her crystal flute and taking a sip. Cad again marveled at how effortlessly Alexis could switch modes. “It does worry me that she seems able to find us so easily. What if the CSF and their new guy, Dr. Sloan or whatever his name is, tries to pay her off?”
“His name is Dexter Stone,” said Cad, correcting Alexis. “And I’m not worried about Falken. If she was going to sell us out, she’d have done it by now. She cares more about the challenge and gaining notoriety than she does money.”
“She’ll still have to go,” said Alexis, suddenly becoming cold again. “She’s too much of a risk.”
“We’ll take care of her soon enough,” Cad grunted. He then turned the device so that Alexis could see the screen. “Oddly enough, Dexter Stone is why she messaged us. Apparently, Doyle’s replacement has detailed a special enforcer unit to hunt us down.”
Alexis shrugged, appearing entirely unfazed by the news. “If they’re anything like the Crimson Lynx squad, I don’t think we need to worry,” she said before taking another sip of her drink. “Though part of me is surprised that Stone isn’t coming after us himself, considering his former position as head of the CSF.”
“He’s not coming for us, because Stone is going after Knight, Wulfrun, and Rand instead,” growled Cad. That Stone saw Hallam Knight as a more important target than himself was a bare-faced insult. “But Stone will not get to them before we do,” Cad added, dropping the tablet computer onto the floor and smashing it with the heel of his boot. “It’s time we left.” Cad moved around the table and headed toward their alcove’s private exit before noticing that Alexis wasn’t with him. “Are you coming?” said Cad, scowling at Alexis, who was now busy tapping away at the Chatham House Club’s self-service ordering computer.