by G J Ogden
Hallam cursed and ran in the other direction as bullets pinged off the trucks and tractors inside. He ducked behind a stack of containers and watched through the narrow gaps as the enforcer edged closer, weapon raised. He saw Noodle point in the direction of the containers, and then quickly scarper. Hallam silently cursed the man, then looked around for anything he could use as an improvised weapon. He saw a tool station to his side and hurried over to it as the enforcer again called out, demanding that Hallam show himself and surrender. The top drawer was open, and Hallam dug around inside, finding a suitably weighty wrench.
Gripping the tool tightly, Hallam again peeked through gaps in the stack of containers, spotting the enforcer closing in on his position. Then he had an idea. Reaching up, he began to push on the upper row of containers, pressing his feet against the rear wall to give him extra leverage. The container toppled over, taking several smaller cannisters and boxes with it in a domino effect. The enforcer dodged back, trying to avoid the mini avalanche, but was struck as one of the larger plastic barrels tumbled into the hangar.
Hallam vaulted the remaining drums and charged, swinging the wrench and whacking the pistol from the enforcer’s grasp. The enforcer recovered quickly, evidently no stranger to brawls, and tackled Hallam. Caught off balance, Hallam was driven back into a tall metal rack, causing smaller objects to rain down on them. He took a punch to the side, but then blocked and spun the enforcer around so that his back was now against the rack. A sharp knee to the enforcer’s ribs was partially dulled by the man’s riot gear, but Hallam’s follow-up punch simply slammed into the man’s helmet, hurting Hallam more than it did the enforcer. Hallam yelped and was caught by a swift counter-attack, causing him to stagger backwards, but before the enforcer could press his advantage, Hallam landed a solid front kick to the man’s armored torso. The enforcer toppled over, colliding with the metal rack and causing larger and heavier objects to fall. The man was struck on the head by several heavy tools and containers and, despite the protection offered by his gear, was knocked out cold.
Sucking in deep gulps of air, Hallam quickly ran toward the exit. Dakota was now visible inside the cockpit, with the second enforcer sprawled out on the deck near the water truck. Hallam raced over to the fighter and clawed his way up onto the ladder at the rear of the craft.
“Do you have the key?” Dakota called out. She was leaning out of the side hatch, and Hallam could now see that Dr. Rand was inside too.
“I have it. Get the ship ready!” Hallam called back, flipping through the various keys until he found the red one with the black stripe.
“Hurry, the freighter is almost in position,” Dakota called back. “If the habitat doors close before we get through, then we’re stuck here!”
Hallam pressed the key to the security pad on the first engine cover and breathed a heavy sigh of relief as the lock released. Muscles aching from exertion and the two scuffles he’d fought, he managed to yank the first cover off. It clattered to the deck and Hallam quickly slid down the railings, pushing the ladder to the opposite side of the ship.
“Hallam, hurry!” he heard Dakota shout. “The enforcers are heading back here!”
Hallam cursed, realizing that Dr. Rand’s little ruse had been discovered. They were now rapidly running out of time. Pressing the card to the lock of the second cover, Hallam heard it click open. He pushed it, but this time, the cover would not budge. “Damn it!” he cried out, trying again, but still there was no movement.
Hallam heard the tell-tale thud of rotors in the distance and glanced toward the center of the habitat, spotting three enforcer dropships closing in fast. Climbing up onto the hull of the ship, Hallam lay back and pressed the heels of his boots onto the engine cover. Bracing himself against whatever he could grab on to, he pushed with his legs, but the cover barely moved.
“Come on, damn it!” Hallam yelled as he kicked the metal shroud repeatedly, each thrust of his leg growing more panicked and frantic, until eventually, the cover shot off.
“The engines are free; fire them up!” Hallam shouted, running across the top of the fighter to where the open side hatch waited for him. Grabbing the top edge, he swung inside, but then lost his grip and slammed into the deck like a sack of flour. The hatch closed, and Hallam glanced up to see Dr. Rand standing above him.
“Cutting it a little fine, aren’t we?” said Dr. Rand, offering Hallam her hand.
Still winded from the fall, Hallam accepted Dr. Rand’s help and she hauled him up, guiding them both into the cockpit. The fighter’s engines sparked into life, drowning out the rising thud of the quadcopters’ rotors.
“This is going to be tight!” cried Dakota, using the thrusters to lift the fighter off the deck. She then swung the nose toward the habitat doors, through which the huge super-freighter had now fully entered. The doors were already closing behind it.
“I don’t care if it’s tight, so long as we make it through!” Hallam shouted, finally managing to fix his harness in place.
“If you want to bring us good luck, you know what to do!” shouted Dakota, still frantically adjusting controls on her console.
Hallam glanced at Bob the bear, Dakota’s lucky mascot, stuck on the console between their seats, and shook his head. “Damn it, Dak, don’t start!” he growled, but she’d planted the idea in his head now, and it was impossible to shake off.
“Suit yourself, but if we crash and burn, it’s your fault, Hal!” Dakota hit back, managing a tense smile.
Hallam growled again then reached over and patted the bear’s head. “Come on, Bob, bring us luck,” he said, muttering under his breath and feeling like a fool.
Dakota smiled, but then they were all pressed back into their seats as she pushed the throttle forward, skimming the fighter over the surface of the airstrip at a frankly reckless velocity. Hallam gritted his teeth as the doors began to fill the view outside the cockpit, but the gap was narrowing just as rapidly. Dakota climbed higher then turned the fighter on its side, slipping through the opening by the thinnest of margins.
Hallam, Dakota, and Dr. Rand all screamed as they raced toward the glowing engines of the super freighter, but somehow Dakota just managed to miss them before reversing thrust and coming to a hover beneath the belly of the huge vessel.
For several seconds, they all just sat in their seats, breathing heavily. Hallam’s hands were trembling, and looking across to Dakota, he could see that her entire body was shaking too. Then Dakota did the last thing that Hallam expected – she laughed.
“See,” Dakota said, managing to shoot a weak smile at Hallam and Dr. Rand. “That was a piece of cake…” Then she leaned forward and patted the ragged little woolen bear on the head, adding, “Thanks, Bob!”
15
Alerts blared out inside the cockpit of Dakota’s fighter as she weaved the agile vessel between the enormous industrial structures of Palean Factory District Alpha Six. Three enforcer patrol ships were hot in pursuit, each of them vying to get a weapons lock.
“I appreciate the demonstration of your piloting abilities,” shouted Dr. Rand as Dakota laced between two factories, both of which were spewing dark smoke into the air. “But why have we not climbed into orbit?”
Dakota banked hard right and cut through a plume of smoke before dipping underneath a long tunnel of raw materials conveyors. “We have to clear the factory district first,” Dakota answered, her voice taut and stilted. “The whole area is surrounded with anti-ship defenses, including orbital batteries.” Climbing sharply to avoid a collision with a massive ground transport, Dakota then ducked underneath an aqueduct carrying effluent from the many factories to the densely polluted sea shore, three hundred miles away. “They are designed to deter pirates and smugglers from trying to raid the factories, and also take out incoming meteors, which this rotten planet gets hit by all the time.”
Hallam glanced up as Dakota continued to weave through the dense forest of factory buildings, keeping below the thick smog blanket caused b
y the hundreds of billowing chimneys. The covering of black cloud was so dense that the bright Palean sun could barely penetrate through.
“Doyle’s reward must be good for us to attract this much attention,” Hallam said, as Dakota began to follow the railroad tracks that would eventually lead to one of the main cargo docks on the outskirts of the district.
“A cool one million,” said Dr. Rand, who was enduring the high-speed maneuvers with far more composure than Hallam had expected. Then he remembered Dr. Rand’s earlier career as an expeditionary pilot and leader, and realized she’d probably been in more perilous situations than this one. “Dead or alive…” Dr. Rand then added with a more forbidding tenor.
Hallam scowled and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the commotion all around him and think. If the reward was “dead or alive,” then they’d be taken out as soon as they exited the factory district. It was only the risk of their fighter plummeting into a factory and causing many more millions of dollars’ worth of damage that was preventing the enforcers from opening fire now. At least half of the factories were owned by Doyle’s Consortium, and the Paleans knew better than to risk incurring the multi-trillionaire’s vengeful wrath. Yet he also knew they couldn’t just fly around in circles forever.
“Like it or not, we’re going to have to shoot our way out of this one, Hal,” said Dakota, oblivious to Hallam’s contemplations. “We’ll be clear of the factory district in less than a minute, and then it’s us or them.”
Hallam opened his eyes and glanced across to Dr. Rand, who was looking back at him quizzically. “We can’t start blowing up these enforcer ships,” said Hallam, “It will just confirm to everyone that the Darkspace Renegades are terrorists. At some point, we’re going to have to get the people on our side and show them that bridge travel has to stop. We can’t do that if every news holo is showing us shooting down Palean enforcer ships.”
Dakota cursed then climbed sharply, narrowly avoiding smashing head-on into an approaching quad-deck freight train. The view outside was suddenly shrouded in a murky darkness before she dipped below the smog line again and resumed course.
“We need to do something, Hal!” Dakota hit back. “I can’t outfly them forever.”
The nugget of an idea formed in Hallam’s mind, and he turned back to Dr. Rand. “Doc, that gravity anomaly you found in the habitat, how far out does it extend?”
Dr. Rand frowned then thought for a moment, shrugging. “I’d have to analyze the data properly, but it should extend all the way up to the bridge entry point above the planet.”
Hallam slapped his palm on the arm of the chair, relieved that Dr. Rand had given him the answer he was hoping for. “That’s how we get away,” he said, looking back at Dakota. “Lure those fighters into the anomaly. Their flight paths and systems will get mixed up in all that gravitational soup, giving us time to escape.”
Dakota didn’t answer, though from the expression on her face, Hallam knew she was intrigued by the idea.
“The gravitational changes in the anomaly may also tear their ships apart, or at the least cause them to crash,” Dr. Rand added. “The end result may be no different than shooting them down.”
“If they still crash, then at least we’ve drawn attention to the gravitational anomalies,” Hallam answered. “And if we climb high enough, the enforcers may be able to recover or bail out.”
“If we’re doing this, we need to do it now,” said Dakota, her voice rising in urgency.
Hallam looked out and realized they were about to punch through the boundary of the factory district. And when they did, the enforcers would almost certainly start shooting.
“Doyle will still suppress any media coverage,” said Dr. Rand, ever the pragmatist. “So long as he controls the narrative through the holo bulletins and BridgeNet, our message will never be heard.”
“But people will have seen what happened with their own eyes and start talking,” said Hallam. “Doyle can’t control that.” He turned to Dakota, who had her attention half-focused ahead and half-focused on Hallam. “We need to open people’s eyes to the danger they’re facing, and show them that we’re not the enemy.”
The fighter punched through the perimeter of the district, and almost immediately, a missile launch warning droned out in the cabin. Hallam held Dakota’s eyes; she had control – the choice was down to her.
The missile flashed up on Hallam’s screen, but Dakota was already banking hard, back toward the district. Hallam launched countermeasures and watched as the missile streaked past, heading harmlessly out into the polluted wasteland beyond the factory district. However, instead of heading into clearer skies, Dakota had aimed the nose of the fighter back into the heart of the district, directly toward Habitat C.
“I hope you’re right about this…” said Dakota, pushing the throttle harder. “And I hope I can manage to avoid the anomaly too. Otherwise, we’re going to end up as another stain on this already blotted landscape.”
Dr. Rand pulled her palm computer out of her pocket and began working. “I’ll upload a map of the anomaly’s position to your navigation system,” the scientist said, struggling to type on the screen as the fighter jolted left and right through the dense forest of structures. “It will only be a crude extrapolation based on my early data, but it’s the best I can do.”
Hallam saw a wireframed representation of the anomaly appear on his screen, looking like a giant tornado, rising from a sharp point at the edge of the dome into a wider plume as it climbed into space, toward one of the Palean bridges. Dakota let out an anxious breath as she adjusted course toward it and began her ascent.
The radio clicked on and the authoritarian voice of an enforcer boomed inside the cockpit. “Renegade fighter, adjust your course at once or we have been authorized to open fire on your vessel.”
Dakota frowned. “Surely they’re bluffing,” she said. “If they take us out now, it will be like dropping a bomb on the dome. Thousands could die.”
The weapons lock warning droned inside the cabin again, and Hallam and Dakota exchanged nervous glances.
“Doyle must really want us dead,” said Hallam, shaking his head, but then he saw that they were only seconds away from intercepting the anomaly. “Stay your course, Dak. It’s going to be tight, but I think you can make it.”
Dakota nodded and sucked in another lungful of air, this time holding it in. The missile launch tone sounded again, but Dakota had already begun her maneuver, rolling the fighter in an attempt to corkscrew past the anomaly without directly intersecting the area of gravitational instability.
Hallam looked behind, breath also held, muscles tight as the missile closed in. Then it suddenly slowed as if the air had become as thick as treacle before shooting upwards in an implausible vertical jump. A second later, it detonated harmlessly inside the thick blanket of smog, the flash barely visible through the dense cloud of dirty smoke.
Hallam whooped and punched the air before the pursuing fighters then also hit the unstable region. They too almost stopped in mid-air before being tossed upward like paper planes caught in a strong gust of wind.
“It worked, we’re clear!” Hallam called out, and Dakota responded instantly, leveling off and making a now unchallenged run toward the perimeter of the factory district.
Hallam peered back, seeing only one parachute sinking through the dirty air below them. “At least one of them got out,” he said, feeling a stab of guilt. Then the three stricken patrol crafts reappeared from the blanket of dense smog, spiraling out of control. One crashed into the dome, striking at a glancing angle and not penetrating through, but the other ships thudded into nearby factory buildings. Two additional plumes of smoke began rising into the air.
“Damn it!” Hallam cried, thumping the arm of his chair with his fist as the fighter raced across the perimeter and began to climb. Soon Hallam’s view of the crash sites was shrouded by the thick blanket of smog.
“Maybe no one was hurt,” said Dr. Rand, catching Halla
m by surprise – she wasn’t one for wishful thinking. However, Dr. Rand was soon true to form again. “But if there were casualties, you can be sure they won’t be the last before this is all over,” she added. Hallam met her eyes, and the scientist’s expression was pensive, even teacherly. “But take heart knowing that the information gained here will help to save the lives of millions, perhaps even billions more.”
Hallam nodded and then relaxed back again, letting out an exhausted sigh. Dr. Rand’s reasoning was sound, and he’d accepted that they were in a war, and that it was always going to be a numbers game. Knowing this didn’t make the loss of life any easier to bear, but it also didn’t change what they had to do. Because if they failed, it wasn’t just one or even a dozen lives that would be lost – it would mean the end of humanity itself.
16
The holo call connected and Cad Rikkard found himself standing on the grand veranda outside Doyle’s penthouse office in the Consortium HQ on Vesta. The office, like everything else to do with Doyle, besides his choice of clothing, was lavish. It could only be reached by his private elevator or via the small landing pad that jutted out to the side of the building.
Cad knew that Doyle typically liked to arrive in his personal flying vehicle, and could see the vessel sat on the pad. Its design was little different to the other tilt-rotor personal transports that flitted across all the cities on the bridge worlds. However, now that he saw it close up, the metal chassis of Doyle’s personal vehicle gave off a slightly iridescent sheen, similar to that of Cad’s power armor.
“I have been receiving disturbing news from the outer bridge planets,” said Doyle. He was staring out across his vast campus and hadn’t turned around or greeted Cad, as any normal, polite person would do. If Cad had physically been in the office with him, rather than existing as a holo, he would have been tempted to throw the man over the edge of his precious building.