by G J Ogden
Dr. Rand was standing in the door of the gym, leaning nonchalantly on the frame and regarding them both with interest. Her lips were curled into the sly smile of a woman who had just caught two people in a compromising position.
“We were just resting,” said Dakota, quick to jump on the defensive.
“It’s okay, Miss Wulfrun, no need to elucidate,” Dr. Rand replied, “though I’m glad I came in when I did; I shudder to think what I might have seen should I have walked in ten minutes later.”
Hallam and Dakota both just stood there, open-mouthed. Neither could face looking at the other. Dr. Rand had completely blindsided them. Thankfully, it was also the genius scientist that rescued them from their uneasy predicament.
“I’m afraid I must cut short your sparring session,” Dr. Rand went on. “We lost contact with one of our Darkspace hideouts. Normally, we get daily status reports from all the hideouts, but one is now long overdue.”
Dakota pulled off her gloves and jumped down from the ring. “We’ll get suited up right away,” she said, glancing back at Hallam, who nodded.
“No need; I already sent a recon ship to make contact,” said Dr. Rand. “However, the base had been assaulted. I’m afraid everyone on board is already dead.”
“Rikkard…” said Hallam, speaking the mercenary’s name like it was a curse. He pulled off his gloves and jumped down beside Dakota. “So what do you need us for?”
“We have more to worry about than just the antics of the Blackfire Squadron,” said Dr. Rand as she led them out of the gym toward the operations center. “I’ve convened a snap briefing to cover the assault on this hideout and what comes next. I’ll explain everything there.”
Dr. Rand pushed through the door into the planning room. It was adjacent to the command operations center, which Hallam noticed was unusually busy. The base commander, a stoic former research director called Castell, was already waiting for them inside. Hallam had only spoken odd words to the man in the time he’d spent on Dr. Rand’s base, but Dakota had mentioned that he used to head up R&D at one of the Consortium’s aerospace corporations. Doyle had him fired after Castell began to uncover evidence of the potential harm of bridge travel. Had it not been for Dr. Rand’s swift intervention, snatching him first, Doyle would have made him “disappear,” likely as a result of more of Cad Rikkard’s handiwork.
“I believe you all know Commander Castell,” said Dr. Rand, though it was more of a statement than a question.
Hallam and the others filtered around the circular table, though Dakota seemed agitated. It became clear why.
“Where’s Ruby?” said Dakota, addressing the question to Dr. Rand.
“Give her more time, Miss Wulfrun,” Dr. Rand replied with a sort of motherly reassurance.
Dakota appeared a little crestfallen, but there was no time to reflect on Ruby Rivas’ absence before Commander Castell launched straight into the briefing. Hallam could see that Ruby was still weighing heavily on Dakota’s mind, but he’d held back from offering to talk with her about it. He figured it was best to let them sort it out between themselves.
“I warn you, the security footage you’re about to see is graphic,” said Commander Castell, enabling a holo projection in the center of the table.
“Don’t worry; we’ve already seen the aftermath of Cad Rikkard’s work up close,” said Hallam, but then he recoiled as the holo showed the mercenary decapitating one of the renegade fighters with his medieval-style sword. They watched another couple of minutes of edited highlights, with Castell commenting details over the top, during which time Hallam’s disgust for Cad Rikkard and his crew reached a new high. However, if he was honest, the brutality and inventiveness of their assault had scared the crap out of him too.
“I think we’ve all seen enough,” said Dr. Rand. Castell nodded, shutting off the holo.
“We should probably tell the other commanders not to roll out the combat bots, and especially not the Achilles models,” said Dakota, whose arms were now tightly folded across her chest. “They’re doing Rikkard’s job for him.”
“They are a risk,” admitted Dr. Rand. “Although in this case, the machine’s malfunction worked to our advantage, preventing the capture of any personnel or information.”
Hallam scowled at Dr. Rand; the scientist may have been right, but it was still a sub-zero level of coldness to consider her own base commander getting mowed down by a killer robot as a silver lining.
“You consider my last statement to be distasteful, Mr. Knight?” said Dr. Rand, who had seemingly observed Hallam’s reaction.
Hallam didn’t try to deny it. “It just came off a little heartless, is all,” he said with a shrug. “They were all still people; all part of your organization.”
“Don’t confuse my pragmatism for pitilessness, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand levelly. “I will grieve for the loss of all those on the hideout; but if Cad Rikkard managed to extract more information concerning our base locations and organization, many more would now be at risk, or even dead.”
Hallam scowled again, but this time, it wasn’t as a result of what Dr. Rand had said; at least not directly.
“We’re missing something here,” Hallam said, searching the back of his mind for what was bothering him. Then it came to him. “Didn’t Draga Vex claim that they’d already extracted the base locations from Commander Lane? If that’s true, then why are they risking another ground assault?”
Commander Castell cocked his head to one side, appearing to find Hallam’s question to be insightful. “Their missiles can’t penetrate our flak barriers,” the commander offered by way of explanation. “In which case, they perhaps had no other choice?”
“Sure, but why not just stick a bomb in that breaching pod they used, and blow the base sky high from the safety of orbit?” Hallam countered. “They might have won that battle, but judging from those holo recordings they only got through by the skin of their teeth. Cad Rikkard may be an egotist, but I doubt he’d risk his neck if he had a better option.”
Dr. Rand leaned forward, palms pressed onto the table. “What are you suggesting, Mr. Knight? That they don’t have all the base locations?”
Hallam nodded. “It’s only a hunch, but it fits.”
Now Dakota spoke up. “We should go after Cad Rikkard directly,” she said, thumping a fist on the table. “It doesn’t matter if he knows all the base locations or just some; the longer we leave him out there, the greater the risk he’ll strike again.”
“You could be chasing around the galaxy for weeks trying to find him,” Castell replied. “And right now, we need you for another mission.”
Hallam and Dakota both straightened up, glancing anxiously at each other.
“Have you found out where Doyle has stashed the alien probe?” asked Hallam.
Dr. Rand shook her head. “No, but I believe we have the next best thing,” she said. Then the scientist quickly changed the subject before Hallam could press her further. “However, that’s not why I called you here. Right now, I need your help for another task.”
Dr. Rand tapped the control panel on the circular table in front of her and the holo image switched to a three-dimensional map of a star system. Hallam had been to the Pales system enough times to recognize its unique configuration of planets. However, Pales was also close to the top of his least favorite places to visit.
The rapid global industrialization of Earth during the expansion era, fueled by Dr. Rand’s discoveries, quickly turned humanity’s homeworld into a polluted and overpopulated ticking time bomb. In order to pull the planet back from the brink of disaster, the major governments and corporations – largely the Consortium – agreed to move all heavy industry off-world. Pales was chosen as the location for this new industrial planet. It was now so densely polluted that its population were forced to live in huge domed cities to protect them from the toxic air and acid rain. Crime was rampant, and the quality of life was amongst the worst in all the bridge worlds. Life expectancy was
only lower on the drug-den planet of Vediovis or the mining world of Carmentis. It was so bad that many Palean workers even chose to take “safer” jobs on the outermost planet, Minerva, which was like moving back in time to the Wild West. And while the relocation of heavy industry to Pales had spared Earth the fate of becoming uninhabitable, humanity’s birthplace remained as overcrowded and contaminated as ever.
“That’s the Pales system,” said Hallam, frowning at the toxic little factory planet, which was fourth from the system’s star. “That’s the system you said had some sort of gravity anomaly, right?”
Dakota guessed at once what Dr. Rand was going to ask next, and tried to head her off. “Let me and Hallam go and check it out,” she said, remembering that Dr. Rand had expressed her intention to travel to Pales to run an analysis. “With everything that’s going on, we can’t risk you getting killed or captured.”
Dr. Rand tapped another command into her console, and the holo map of the Pales system started to animate. Hallam watched as planets and moons traced their orbits around the Palean star in accelerated time, completing several full circuits of the bright yellow sun in a matter of seconds. Dr. Rand stopped the image then met Dakota’s eyes.
“Can you see if there is anything wrong with the orbital paths in this picture?” Dr. Rand asked.
Dakota scowled. “No.”
“Are you the galaxy’s foremost expert on galactic and planetary dynamics?” Dr. Rand continued, her right eyebrow lifting slightly as she spoke the question.
Dakota folded her arms. “Well, obviously, no…”
“Have you spent the better part of your life researching and developing the technology for sub-dimensional superluminal travel?”
“Look, I know where you’re going with this…” Dakota began, but Dr. Rand cut her off.
“Good, then we depart in one hour,” said Dr. Rand breezily, heading toward the door. She then stopped and added, “I suggest we take one ship; it will be safer that way, don’t you agree?”
Dakota opened her mouth to reply, but Dr. Rand had already left the briefing room.
Hallam laughed, drawing an angry glower from Dakota before his partner turned to Commander Castell, looking for support.
Castell just held up his hands in surrender. “Don’t look at me. It would be easier to talk a shark out of swimming than change her mind once it’s made up.” Castell then hit the door release and stepped through into the operations command center. “I’ll get your ship cleared for departure in one hour,” he said, tapping his watch. “Which means you two had better get moving…”
7
Falken flitted between her various computer stations, tapping hurried commands into each one while slurping on a bright-red drink through a long yellow straw.
“Be with you in just a minute,” Falken said as Cad watched her circle around him. She’d been doing this same ballet of moves for the last five minutes already, and Cad was tired of waiting.
“I’m on the clock here, lady. Can’t this wait, whatever the hell it is you’re doing?” said Cad, drumming his fingers on the hilt of his Black Prince sword.
“Afraid not!” Falken replied, jumping from her current console to another. “There’s a major pay-per-view event starting soon – some sporting thing or another. I’m just hijacking their payment portal, so the transactions all go through me instead.”
Cad scowled; he remembered an occasion when he tried to watch a pay-per-view holo football match and his payment had just disappeared into the ether. He’d missed the match and been left out of pocket too. It had also cost him a new holo-TV, after he’d smashed his current one in a fit of rage. Cad considered challenging the nefarious young hacker about it, but then remembered his own assertion that he was “on the clock.”
“Look, how long is this going to take?” said Cad, realizing that his hand had now closed around the grip of his sword.
“All done!” chirruped Falken, spinning a full three-sixty in her chair and then stopping it in front of Cad. “So, what can I do you for?”
Cad shook his head. “You know damn well what: the jamming package for the renegade bases!” he barked, feeling like drawing the sword and stabbing it straight through the young woman’s heart.
“Right…” said Falken, again turning to what appeared to be her main computer console. “I haven’t managed to find a way through their firewall yet,” she continued, tapping away at a virtualized keyboard. “This is probably the best security system I’ve seen outside of Damien Doyle’s personal datacenter. Whoever set this up is one god-tier genius, that’s for sure.”
“I thought you were supposed to be the best at this crap?” said Cad, feeling like he’d just wasted the last five minutes of his life, only for Falken to tell him she’d made no progress.
“Oh, I am…” said Falken, seemingly unoffended by Cad’s subtle challenge to her credibility. “I’ll find a way through; I just need a little more time.”
Cad sighed and tightened his hold on the grip of his sword. “Time is the one currency I’m short of, lady,” he said.
“I’ll get back to you in a couple of days,” replied Falken, slurping down the rest of her bright-red drink. Then she clicked her fingers and added, “Oh, hey, did you manage to make that meeting I arranged for you? The one with ‘the woman’ you asked about?” Falken said “the woman” in an intentionally mysterious way, making it sound like she was discussing an illicit affair that Cad was having.
“Yes, I’m here right now,” said Cad. “Though the asshole is making me wait too, just like you.” An alert buzzed on Cad’s watch and he glanced down to check it before cursing. “I’ve got another call; get back to me as soon as you have some good news about the hideouts.”
Falken gave Cad a casual salute and said, “You got it, mister” before Cad tapped the screen of his watch and the holo image of her lair dissolved. Cad suddenly found himself standing at the sixteenth hole on Damien Doyle’s private golf course. Doyle was waiting at the tee, in a painfully-plain golf shirt and cream slacks, which only further accentuated his exquisite, one-of-a-kind pair of shoes.
“You’re a hard man to get hold of, Mr. Rikkard,” growled Damien Doyle, pulling a three-wood from his bag, which was being carried by his ever-present personal protection bot.
“Comes with the territory, I’m afraid,” said Cad with a frosty yet still far more amiable tone than Doyle had used. Though when he thought about it, Cad didn’t remember a single occasion when Doyle had spoken to him with anything other than simmering contempt. If it were not for his position, and the killer robot that seemingly never left his side, Cad would have educated the magnate in the error of his ways long ago. “There are no comm-relays out in the Darkspace, as you know,” Cad added, though he doubted Doyle would consider even this valid and reasonable answer to be a suitable excuse.
Doyle rested the golf club over his shoulder and regarded Cad for a moment. Cad was used to taking a more casual tone with the multi-trillionaire magnate than most people dared to, but he could see now that Doyle was in no mood for games.
“I got your report about the second renegade hideout,” said Doyle, moving up to the tee. “But I didn’t read anything in there about finding Dr. Rand, or you getting any closer to locating her.”
“You’re asking me to hunt down an organization that’s been operating in secret for years, led by one of the most brilliant people ever to draw breath,” Cad hit back. He then aimed a finger at Doyle and added, “Someone even your vast network of spies didn’t know still existed until recently.” Doyle’s eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened as Cad’s finger hung in the air. “I’ll find Rand, like I told you I would,” Cad added resolutely.
Doyle grunted and then turned to take the tee shot, launching the golf ball straight down the center of the fairway. If it had been any other person, Cad might have congratulated him for the shot, but since it was Doyle, he stayed silent.
“All I see is money going out of my account in large quantities
, with nothing to show for it,” said Doyle, turning back to Cad. His personal protection bot thudded up to his side, leaving indentations in the grass wherever it had stepped before holding out the bag of clubs. “I came to you because you were the best – or at least you were supposed to be.” Cad gritted his teeth as Doyle again questioned his credibility, but he let it slide. “I came to you because I needed this done quickly and quietly, off the radar, and without the possibility of it being linked back to me. Maybe I made a mistake?”
Cad forced his jaw to relax and took a moment to compose himself before answering, “I’ve already single-handedly taken out two entire renegade hideouts,” Cad began, fighting hard to ensure that the rage he was feeling for the man didn’t bleed through into his words. “I’ll get you Rand. Work is already in progress.”
Doyle growled an unconvinced huff as he slotted the three-wood back into the bag. “I hope you’re right, Mr. Rikkard,” he said, and Cad knew that the malicious old asshole was about to level another threat in his direction. He duly obliged without delay. “Because there are many other mercenary organizations that would love nothing more than to take this job off your hands.” Doyle smiled, revealing a perfectly-engineered row of marble-white teeth. “Perhaps I should give Group-X a call instead?”
Cad returned the smile; having predicted Doyle’s attempt to goad him, he’d had time to prepare for whatever threat the Consortium boss had come up with. However, even for Doyle, the threat of giving his contact to Group-X was a low blow. Doyle knew full well that Group-X was run by a man called Xander Blade. And the only man in the entire galaxy that Cad despised more than Xander Blade was Doyle himself.
“You do know that’s not even his real name,” said Cad, unable to stop himself rising to the bait, at least a little. “He changed his name to ‘Blade’ just to sound more dangerous; his actual name is just as dumb as him and the rest of his brain-dead crew.”