by G J Ogden
“I knew she’d come around eventually,” said Hallam, shooting Dakota a mischievous smile. In truth, he was convinced that the firebrand second member of the Wolf Squadron had bailed on them for good, and Dakota knew that.
“Yeah, sure you did,” scoffed Dakota. “But her timing couldn’t have been better.”
“Well, she could have turned up before that nutjob mercenary shot us down,” said Hallam, unwilling to give the outspoken renegade too much credit too soon.
Dakota snorted and shook her head, but then seemed to immediately regret it, becoming dizzy. Hallam had to catch her shoulders to stop her from tumbling down the hillside.
“Come on, let’s get airborne,” said Hallam, helping Dakota the last part of the way to where her fighter was hidden, under a hastily put together camouflage of tree branches and dirt. Then he looked at the gash carved into the side of Dakota’s head, and the still glassy look in her eyes, and added, “And this time, I’m doing the flying.”
25
Hallam dropped into the pilot’s chair of the renegade fighter and powered up the engines, bypassing every pre-flight check in the book. Dakota was already strapped into the second seat, first-aid kit sprawled out on her lap, hastily applying a dressing to her cut, as well as some meds for the pain.
The scanner console flickered on as Hallam lifted the fighter off the ground, shaking off dirt and tree branches like a bird shaking water from its feathers. Ruby Rivas and Draga Vex were still circling in the skies above them, cannons flashing and missiles flying, but so far, neither had scored a decisive hit. Hallam knew that Ruby was a good pilot, but Draga’s reputation preceded her, and the longer the fight went on, the greater the odds were that the mercenary would prevail.
“Wolf Two, this is Wolf Three; we’re airborne,” Hallam called out over the squadron comm channel, “I have Wolf One on board too, so let’s get the hell out of here.”
Ruby’s voice crackled back over the comm, breathless but in control. “Just head into orbit, Wolf Three. I’ll keep this psycho distracted while you make the climb.”
Hallam gritted his teeth and glanced back at Dakota. His instinct was to tell Ruby to run too, but he didn’t want to start another fight with her only moments after she’d run to their aid. The pensive look in Dakota’s eyes told Hallam that she was having similar thoughts. Then Dakota sighed and pulled on her headset, resting it over her newly-applied bandage and blood-soaked hair.
“Just make sure you get off this rock as well, Wolf Two,” said Dakota.
Hallam turned back to face his instruments, impressed with Dakota’s restraint, but also unsure whether she was just giving Ruby enough rope to hang herself with.
“Affirmative, Wolf One. I have no intention of crashing and burning on this corporate hell hole of a planet,” replied Ruby.
Hallam heard Dakota huff a laugh. “Typical Ruby… always eager to stick it to the man,” she said, opening the comm channel again. “Good to hear, Wolf Two…” said Dakota, but then she paused, leaving the channel open. A few seconds later, Dakota added, “And thanks for coming for us. It’s good to have you back.”
The channel returned static for another few moments before Ruby replied, “You never lost me, Wolf One. I’ll see you back at base. Out.”
Hallam spun up the Shelby Drive and began running the computations to make their first solo jump into the Darkspace. Travelling across the established bridge routes would have been far quicker and easier, but it would also make it easier for Draga to track and follow them. He was about to make the burn for orbit when his scanner bleeped and four new contacts appeared.
“Ah crap,” said Hallam as the computer registered the identification of the new vessels. “Four CSF Enforcer patrol ships just came onto the board.”
“Have they spotted us?” asked Dakota, but then the comm system chimed and an open broadcast filled the cabin.
“Hostile vessels, stand down immediately, or you will be fired upon,” a severe voice demanded. “If you attempt to make orbit, we will launch missiles to intercept you. Land and power down your crafts, immediately.”
Hallam slammed the console with the palm of his hand as a missile lock warning flashed up on his tactical computer. “Damn it, they’ve already got a lock,” he said, noting that one of the fighters had slowed to a hover and was holding at stand-off range. “If we try to run now, that fighter will hit us with a long-range missile.”
Hallam’s eyes flicked between the scanner and the horizon, watching as the three other CSF fighters swooped in and began to circle around Draga and Ruby as they continued to weave their chaotic dance across the sky. Then he scowled as it looked like the CSF was also targeting Draga Vex.
“I’m on your side, you fools!” said the voice of Draga Vex over the open comm channel.
“You have destroyed a civilian vessel and are illegally engaged in combat operations,” the voice of the CSF enforcer hit back. “You will stand down now or be fired upon!”
Draga didn’t reply on the open channel, but Hallam was sure he heard the woman growl. “At least they’re going after Draga too,” he said, trying to find a silver lining. “It should make it easier to slip away.”
“Burn for orbit now, while Draga is distracted,” suggested Dakota. “We can just jam their missiles and bridge as soon as we reach space. It’s a risk, but I don’t see that we have a choice right now.”
Hallam shook his head. “That won’t work while we’re so close to Fortuna,” he said, thanking his CSF training for the detailed knowledge he had of their tactics and capabilities. “The missiles have multiple independent guidance systems. If we jam the missile’s sensors, any number of satellites or ground transceivers will guide them in. This ship’s countermeasures system doesn’t have the power or range to block them all.”
“Damn it,” said Dakota, scrunching her eyes shut and trying to think of another option.
Suddenly, Draga Vex broke off her pursuit of Ruby and turned in behind the CSF patrol. Within seconds, she had locked on and fired her cannons. The engines of the trailing CSF patrol ship burst into flames, kicking out a thick plume of billowing black smoke. The Consortium vessel spiraled downward, out of control, before colliding into the hilltop and bursting into flames.
“I hate to say it, Hal, but that witch has got the right idea,” said Dakota with a morbid solemnity. “If we’re going to get off this planet alive, we have to fight our way out.”
Hallam gripped the controls, muscles taut and jaw clenched. Dakota was right. It’s a numbers game… he reminded himself. And not everyone is going to make it.
Hallam’s scanner bleeped again, picking up a full flight of six more CSF Enforcer patrol ships. They were on the outer limits of his scan range, but they would still arrive within minutes. And even with Draga Vex as a temporary and reluctant wingman, there was no way they could take down that many CSF fighters.
“Ruby, break off from Draga and engage the CSF fighters,” Hallam called over their squadron comm channel. “We only have a couple of minutes before CSF reinforcements arrive.”
“What about psycho lady?” Ruby hit back as Draga took down another of the CSF fighters with a perfectly aimed missile.
“For the moment, the enemy of our enemy is our friend,” replied Hallam, accelerating toward the CSF patrol ship that was still sitting at standoff range, blocking their retreat. “I’m engaging. Stand by to make a run for it as soon as we get an opening,” Hallam continued as the CSF ship was highlighted in his heads-up display.
The targeted patrol craft then powered away, its pilot clearly having spotted Hallam’s rapid approach. A launch warning droned inside the cabin and Hallam cursed. His opponent had also seemingly had the wherewithal to launch a missile before turning tail.
“Crap, hold on!” said Hallam, banking hard and dipping into the valley as the missile slammed into the rocks and exploded, showering his canopy with stones and dust.
Hallam felt the belly of the fighter graze the ground, and
he pulled up before turning in behind the CSF ship. More by luck than judgment, he had popped out of the valley directly on his opponent’s tail. Hallam got a weapons lock and squeezed the trigger. The cannons in his wingtips flashed, and moments later, the CSF ship was a ball of fire, hurtling toward the grassy valley below. Hallam turned toward the remaining CSF fighters, watching as the burning ship smashed into the ground, scarring the idyllic, peaceful countryside with fire, metal, and blood. Then metal chimes pinged all around him and the control stick juddered before alarms rang out.
“We’re hit!” called Dakota, craning her neck to look for their attacker.
“I don’t see it on our scanner,” replied Hallam, banking hard and increasing thrust, while also visually scanning for the fighter that was targeting him. Then he saw the familiar hawk-like shape of Draga’s advanced mercenary combat ship arcing away behind him. “Damn it, that woman is relentless,” cursed Hallam, manually locking on to Draga’s vessel and trying to match her turn.
There was another explosion on the horizon and Hallam saw the last CSF fighter flash and blink off his scanner, gunned down by Ruby. They were in the clear, at least until the CSF reinforcements arrived, and assuming he could shake Draga Vex off their tail. Hallam continued his turn, but Draga’s fighter had the edge in speed and maneuverability. He glanced at the scanner, spotting Ruby Rivas closing in fast, and had an idea.
“Wolf Two, get ready, I’m going to line her up for you,” said Hallam over the squadron comm channel.
“Roger that, Wolf Three. Standing by,” came the unequivocal reply from Ruby Rivas.
However, while Ruby had shown no hesitation, Dakota was less enamored with Hallam’s statement. “Just how exactly are you going to ‘line her up’ for Ruby?” Dakota asked warily.
Hallam continued to watch the scanner, waiting until Draga was almost upon him. “Like this…” he said before levelling off the ship and flying straight as an arrow toward the rising sun. A weapons lock tone blared out inside the cabin, but Hallam held his course.
“Hal…” a nervous Dakota called out from the second seat, but still Hallam held his course and speed. “Hal, she’s got a lock on us!” Dakota added, finally losing the normally vise-like hold she had on her emotions.
“Just a few more seconds!” Hallam called back. He knew Dakota was the galaxy’s worst back-seat flyer, but if he was honest, his butt cheeks were clenched tighter than a clam shell too.
Draga launched a missile, but then out of the sun, Ruby Rivas shot toward them, cannons blazing. Hallam banked hard, launching countermeasures and powering the fighter into a steep climb. Below them, smoke trailed across the idyllic Fortunan countryside as Draga’s fighter, engines ablaze, ploughed into the deep valley. The missile streaked away harmlessly, slamming into the hillside a second later and adding yet another blot to the otherwise pristine landscape.
There was a raucous whoop over the comm channel before Ruby’s voice yelled, “Yeah, suck on that, you sadistic piece of crap!” at the top of her lungs. It was so loud that Hallam had to pull the headset away from his ear.
“Great shot, Wolf Two!” Hallam said, blowing out another heavy sigh of relief. “Now let’s go home before anyone else starts shooting at us.” Then he remembered that Dakota was in the second seat and let out an apologetic cough. It was still her ship, and she was the squadron leader. “Assuming that’s your order too, of course, Wolf One?”
Dakota laughed. “Yes, I think it’s safe to say that I agree with getting the hell out of here, before someone else starts shooting at us,” she said, more than a little sarcastically.
Hallam continued his steep climb, pushing the engines to full thrust and accelerating the renegade fighter toward the stars like a rocket. The flight of six CSF reinforcement fighters was still ninety seconds from weapons range, but Hallam knew they’d be long gone by then.
Punching through the atmosphere with Ruby Rivas close behind, Hallam activated the Shelby Drive and let his muscles go dead as the pulsing whine of the system began to build. Moments later, the fighter had pushed through onto the temporary bridge, transporting them on a path deep into the heart of the Darkspace, where no one – not even Cad Rikkard’s Blackfire Squadron - could follow.
26
Under threat of being shot out of the sky by both the CSF and Fortuna’s local enforcers, Cad Rikkard set down his fighter in the meadow, close to Draga’s downed ship. Smoke was still curling into the air from the damaged fighter’s engines, but to Cad’s expert eye, the vessel was not critically damaged.
Cad opened the rear ramp, which descended into the soft Fortunan soil, but he left the ship’s systems running. He had no intention of staying for long, despite the dozen different enforcement craft that were either circling overhead or already set down in the meadow. More problematic was that Draga had already locked horns with these enforcers, who in all likelihood would now try to arrest him too.
Draga Vex stood in the meadow about a hundred meters away, her jet-black armor contrasting sharply with the vibrant green grass of the Fortunan countryside. Six armed Fortunan enforcers surrounded her, all with either sidearms or riot batons raised in anger, but all timidly kept their distance from the intimidating mercenary. To their side, four enforcers were propped up against the grassy bank of the valley, being attended to by medics. Their bruised and bloodied faces wore the tell-tale marks of a losing encounter with Draga Vex.
Ordinarily, Cad would have laughed at the scene and tried to picture how Draga would have beaten down these enforcers, who had foolishly tried to apprehend her. However, recent events had left no room in his soul for joy. Alexis Black remained in serious but stable condition in Fortuna’s top Consortium-owned private hospital. Cad had flown her there himself, using the advanced life support pod on his fighter to administer the first aid that had ultimately saved her life. And he would have remained by her side, were it not for hearing the radio chatter about the fighter battle nearby, and how a lone renegade with black lightning strike marks across her face had been cornered. If he had not come for Draga, she would have chosen to die fighting the enforcers rather than submit to them. Draga would never permit herself to be imprisoned – it would be like attempting to bottle lightning itself. In truth, Cad was half-expecting to have found her dead already, with the bodies of many more enforcers littered around her corpse.
“Halt! Stay back!” shouted one of the local Fortunan Enforcers as Cad walked calmly toward the scene. He had already removed his combat armor, but the approach of a powerfully-built six-two mercenary with a sword strapped around his waist was evidently still an intimidating sight.
“I said stop!” the woman barked again, this time raising her weapon and aiming it at Cad’s chest. The officer was wearing lieutenant’s rank tabs and was flanked by two masked enforcers, both of which were also now aiming weapons at Cad’s body.
Cad Rikkard felt like drawing his sword and running all three officers through, and he would have done so were it not for the many other enforcers surrounding him. Instead, Cad stopped as ordered and met the lieutenant’s eyes.
“Before you do anything stupid, you might want to check in with your commander,” Cad said, remaining cool, though inside, he was filled with bile and a desire to hurt them – to hurt anyone. “Chief Olson will be expecting your call. Tell him that Cad Rikkard is here to collect his colleague.”
The lieutenant frowned and lowered her weapon slightly before touching a finger to her earpiece. “Base, this is Lieutenant Duggan. Is the chief there with you?” The officer had phrased the question with obvious suspicion, but also no small measure of curiosity. A few seconds later, Cad could hear the muffled response, chattering out through the lieutenant’s earpiece.
“Sir, I have a Cad Rikkard here at the scene of the starfighter crash…” Lieutenant Duggan began, but then her sentence was sharply curtailed, which told Cad that his name had registered the desired impact.
“Yes, sir…” Duggan added after another few seconds
of chatter, during which time the officer’s frowning eyes had stayed locked on to Cad’s. “I understand, sir,” Duggan continued before tapping the earpiece again and holstering her weapon. She then glanced behind to the two masked enforcers and motioned for them to lower their weapons too.
“My apologies, Mr. Rikkard. The chief has briefed me on the situation,” Duggan said. The officer’s tone remained professional, but her closed posture and pursed, turned-down lips betrayed her irritation at the order. “How can I assist you?”
Cad sighed, grudgingly thankful that Doyle’s decades spent infiltrating and corrupting the top echelons of local enforcement leadership on the bridge worlds had paid dividends. However, he also resented having to invoke Doyle’s aid to once again claw him out of a tight spot. And he would live to regret it once the multi-trillionaire learned of the theft from his data bunker. He knew that Doyle would blame him, despite the fact that the failure rested squarely on the shoulders of his own security services, who had allowed the renegade incursion in the first place.
“Release my companion,” said Cad, nodding toward Draga, who was watching the exchange with interest. “And have the damaged fighter air-lifted to the nearest Consortium maintenance facility for repair.”
Lieutenant Duggan chewed the instructions over in her mind for a few seconds, her body language continuing to reveal the officer’s uneasiness with Cad’s demands. However, Duggan then turned to the sextet of officers still nervously penning Draga inside their circle and said, “Let her go.”
With a similar level of trepidation and confusion, the circle of enforcers lowered their weapons, and Draga strolled out from amongst them without uttering a word or looking upon any of their mystified faces.
“I’ll get the fighter moved to Portus Maintenance Yard,” said Duggan, turning back to Cad, who merely grunted an acknowledgement. “Will there be anything more, sir?” she added, asking the question in such a way that it was clear she hoped the answer to be “no.”