by G J Ogden
Darkspace Renegade Volume 1
©2021 GJ OGDEN
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Contents
ALSO IN THE SERIES
Acknowledgments
DARK RENEGADE
Prologue
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
WOLF SQUADRON
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
FROM THE PUBLISHER
ALSO IN THE SERIES
Also by GJ Ogden
Readers' Favorite, 5-stars
About the Author
You can connect with me here:
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
Thanks to Sarah for her work assessing and editing this novel, and to those who subscribed to my newsletters and provided such valuable feedback.
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Other Sci-Fi series by G J Ogden:
The Planetsider Trilogy
The Contingency War Series
The Star Scavenger Series
DARK RENEGADE
BOOK ONE
Prologue
2177 Chester Doyle, the world’s richest man, dies in unexplained circumstances. His son, Damien Doyle, inherits his father’s business empire – the Consortium – becoming the youngest multi- trillionaire in history.
2184 Damien Doyle launches the first private manned expedition to Mars. Consortium employee, Dr. Shelby Rand, becomes the youngest mission commander at age twenty.
2184 A tragic accident on the return journey kills the entire crew. Only Dr. Shelby Rand survives.
2186 Dr. Rand makes the breakthrough discovery of an exotic material, later named Randenite. A slew of rapid discoveries follows, advancing technology by a century in only a few years, all funded by Dr. Rand’s sponsor, the Consortium.
2188 A ship equipped with a prototype Shelby Drive successfully engineers the first interstellar bridge, allowing travel to distant stars in a matter of hours. The Consortium owns exclusive rights to Shelby Drive technology and its fuel source, Randenite.
2208 There are now twelve bridge worlds, all chosen for their Earth-like properties. Randenite depots are placed at every planet, all linked through an extensive network of interstellar bridges to the Centrum; the Consortium’s main Randenite refinery.
2210 Dr. Rand goes missing during a highly-secretive expedition to a suspected thirteenth bridge world. A month later, Dr. Rand and her crew are declared dead.
2211 Three months after Dr. Rand’s death, a massive, coordinated cyberattack wipes all Consortium databases of all information relating to Randenite and Shelby Drive technology. A virus renders all production plants and technology useless. Only the Centrum remains operational, but its encrypted archive cannot be mined for the secrets to Randenite.
2212 Interplanetary trade is restricted to essentials as Randenite becomes scarce, plunging the co-dependent bridge worlds into chaos.
2213 A radical group named the Darkspace Renegades are blamed for the cyberattack. These fanatics claim that expansion into the stars will lead to humanity’s end. Darkspace Renegades soon begin to target Randenite tankers, using Darkspace Interjectors to knock ships out of bridge space and into the interstellar void.
2215 Bridge Runners -– pilots willing to fly new armored tankers – run the bridges between the Centrum and the bridge worlds, under a constant threat of attack.
2220 Bridge Runners, Hallam Knight, and Dakota Wulfrun embark on a standard tanker run from the planet Liber to the Centrum…
1
Another dull thud reverberated through the deck of the armored tanker, forcing Hallam Knight to release his hold on the turret control system to steady himself.
“That’s the third damn mine in as many minutes!” Hallam yelled over to his partner and pilot Dakota Wulfrun. “These renegades have really got the bit between their teeth today!”
&nb
sp; The exertion of maneuvering the cumbersome tanker had twisted Dakota’s face into a pained grimace, and it was several seconds before she had the breath to reply.
“At least I’m managing to avoid them,” Dakota eventually yelled back before a heavier thud pounded through the tanker's thick metal beams. Alarms sounded on her console and her face twisted into a grimace again, but this time, it was more out of awkwardness. “Apart from that one, sorry…” she added, more than a little sheepishly, before reaching across to one of her consoles to silence the squawk of the alarm.
“Don’t worry, Dak, it will take more than that to punch through this beast’s thick skin,” replied Hallam, spinning the virtualized gun turret around and blasting a barrage of flak at one of the two attacking Darkspace Renegade fighters. Their duo of combat escorts from the Consortium Security Force (CSF) were doing their best to keep the renegades away from them, but the tanker had still taken a succession of direct hits. “Speaking of which, I’m getting an armor depletion warning for the port-side aft quarter, section four through seven. Keep our starboard side facing their next attacks, if you can.”
Dakota nodded and cut power to the main engines before activating the thrusters to maneuver the less-damaged starboard side toward the direction of the renegades' next attack. “This tanker may be tough, but it’s about as maneuverable as an asteroid,” complained Dakota as the tanker slowly responded to her commands.
Hallam smiled and released another burst of flak toward the closest renegade ship, scoring a hit. Fragments of the heavily-armored fighter broke off and disappeared into space. Within seconds, the debris had vanished out of sight, lost in the void between bridge worlds. This was the empty expanse of nothing that had become known as Darkspace. Hallam had always found the term amusing, since all space appeared just as dark to him, but the lack of any nearby stars or planets did make the emptiness seem more acute. He hated the Darkspace, but the frequent interjections from the renegade ships meant he ended up stranded in the literal middle of nowhere on a weekly basis.
Hallam fired another burst, more to let the fighter know he was still watching than in a genuine effort to destroy it. He had no compunctions about taking down the renegades if necessary, but preferred to avoid a kill shot if he could. Hallam then watched as the smaller ship took another hit and quickly turned tail. A few moments later, the hypnotic crimson pulse of its Shelby Drive system throbbed into life, and the fighter vanished back into bridge space. The bright flash of blood-red light as the ship bridged imprinted the image of the fighter onto Hallam’s retina, like seeing the after-image of a camera flash that you accidentally looked directly at.
“I tagged one of them and it’s turned tail,” said Hallam, keeping his partner informed. Dakota whooped with appreciation, then Hallam watched as she kissed the tips of her fingers and patted the head of a red woolen teddy bear mounted on her center console. It was a silly tradition and superstition that Hallam couldn’t help but find charming and endearing in equal measure.
“Thanks, Bob!” Dakota called out, returning her hands to the controls.
Hallam smiled. “You know, I’m pretty sure it's my gunnery skills, rather than Bob’s mystical power of fortune, that you need to be thanking…”
“Go on, say it!” Dakota called back, grinning. “It’s bad luck if you don’t…”
Hallam rolled his eyes and relented, “Fine… thanks, Bob!” he called out, aiming the commendation at the slightly ragged-looking red bear. Dakota then patted the toy again before making further adjustments with the thrusters to keep their less-damaged side facing the remaining renegade.
A series a sharp metallic pings, like ball bearings being dropped on a steel plate, permeated the cockpit space, and Hallam saw the damage panel light up with a dozen spots of red. “That last renegade isn’t giving up easily,” said Hallam, noting that the damage was again contained by their thick armor. “It looks like it’s going for the main engines, though, so if you’re happy to coast for a while, I’d close them up.”
“Roger that,” replied Dakota cheerfully. “Engaging ‘turtle mode’ now…”
There was a powerful mechanical whirr as thick metal shielding wound out from the aft section of the ship before a hefty thump signified that their engines had been enclosed in heavy metal.
“I wish you wouldn’t call it ‘turtle mode.’ It sounds somehow a little disgusting,” said Hallam, releasing another barrage of flak toward the renegade ship, which was now heading away.
“That’s just your warped mind, Hal,” replied Dakota. The augmented view panel at the front of the cockpit then suddenly lit up, bathing Hallam in an intense orange light as one of the fighter craft exploded into a blazing inferno. A second later, the hull of the armored tanker was peppered with the fast-moving remains of the stricken ship.
“Who was that?” asked Dak breathlessly. “Was that the other renegade or one of ours?”
“It was one of ours,” answered Hallam darkly, spotting that the transponder ID of their second escort had vanished from his panel. Then he noticed that Dakota looked almost relieved at this news. “Are you happy about us losing an escort or something?” he added, wondering what had promoted her curious reaction.
“Of course not,” she retorted, looking and sounding affronted. Then she paused to collect her thoughts before adding, “But don’t forget that these renegades are fanatics. I just don’t want to be their target of choice for a revenge attack, is all.”
Hallam turned back to his augmented target view, but the remaining renegade and Consortium escort were still locked in battle, beyond his range. He released his grip on the turret controls, allowing the blood to flow back into his milk-white knuckles. “I hadn’t really thought about it like that,” he admitted, letting the chair take the weight of his body. “But I guess you’re right. The Consortium are sure going to be pissed at losing one of their fighters, though.”
Dakota huffed a derisory laugh. “They’re more likely to mourn the loss of a precious Shelby Drive,” she replied bitterly.
“Don’t speak ill of your employer…” teased Hallam, though in truth, he agreed with Dakota’s sentiment completely. The Consortium was the epitome of capitalist greed, rising to power through ruthless single-mindedness and total market dominance in more sectors than Hallam could remember.
Dakota shot Hallam a dirty look in response, but then the remaining renegade fighter broke off and accelerated back toward them. Hallam sat bolt upright, feeling his pulse race. “Damn it, this renegade just doesn’t know when to quit,” he said, turning the tanker’s flak turrets toward the approaching vessel. “I’ll create a perimeter; if this fanatic wants to fly through it and turn itself to confetti, then so be it,” he added, programming the weapon system for a wide burst, set to detonate after one hundred meters. He squeezed the trigger and the flak cannons fired, turning the serene darkness into a mosaic of flying metal fragments.
“That certainly changed their mind,” commented Dakota brightly as the renegade ship spun on its axis and lit up its main engine, burning hard away from the barrage of flak. Hallam then saw the tell-tale pulse of crimson lights racing up and down the fighter’s wings before the ship disappeared in a flash of red light. With it, the Darkspace interjector signal vanished, and the tanker’s Shelby Drive began to spool back online.
Dakota whooped again before flipping the bird at the augmented view screen. “Suck it, renegade!” she shouted with gusto.
Hallam smiled, but then an alarm shrieked and his panel lit up with a red border. “Torpedo!” he shouted, grasping the turret controls and scanning the area around where the fighter entered into bridge space. “It must have launched it just before jumping back onto the bridge!”
“I see it, bearing three, two, six, mark zero, two seven!” Dakota yelled. “Closing fast!”
Hallam spun the turret to match the bearing Dakota had called out; he hadn’t spotted the incoming torpedo yet but trusted Dakota implicitly. They’d only flown together for
a few months, but in that time, they’d developed a quick rapport and trust.
“Firing!” shouted Hallam, unleashing the full force of the flak turrets toward where he hoped the torpedo was. The space ahead of them became clouded with fragments of metal, then Hallam saw it, arcing beneath the barrier. “Damn it, that fighter boomeranged us!” he shouted, turning the turret toward the torpedo and firing on gut instinct alone.
The dull, repetitive whomp of the turrets firing filled the cockpit, then the torpedo detonated amidst the hazy cloud of metal and smoke. More alarms wailed as the armored tanker was peppered with jagged chunks of metal from the torpedo’s fragmentation warhead. Hallam recognized the sound of an explosive decompression somewhere inside the ship and frantically scrolled through the damage readout.
“Hull breach, starboard fore-quarter,” Hallam called out before waiting with bated breath for the red indicator to turn green. Come on! he urged, willing the light to change color. At that moment, he would have kissed Bob the bear on the lips if it would have helped. Then the light suddenly blinked and turned green, and Hallam flung himself back, releasing the breath he realized he’d been holding for the last few seconds. “It’s okay, the safeties kicked in, breach sealed. We’re okay…”