Darkspace Renegade Volume 1: Books 1 & 2: (A Military Sci-Fi Series)

by G J Ogden

  Dakota grabbed half of the bread roll that Hallam had torn open earlier and bit into it heartily. “So why work for the Consortium as a bridge runner?” she said through a mouthful of bread.

  Hallam toyed with the other half of the roll, ripping off small chunks and tossing them onto his side plate. “Same reason as you, I suppose,” he said, not having really thought about it for a while. “I had the skills – they couldn’t take that away from me – and bridge running earns decent money, thanks to the hazard pay. Plus, it got me off Earth.”

  Dakota swallowed the mouthful of bread and nibbled off another piece. “But if you are such a hot-shot pilot, how come you joined as a gunner and not a bus driver like me?”

  Hallam cocked an eyebrow at her, “No offense, but when you’re used to flying state-of-the-art space combat fighters, these hulking tankers don’t really cut it.”

  Dakota made a sort of harrumphing sound, then threw a chunk of bread at Hallam. It bounced off his forehead and landed in his water glass. “I see… tanker driving is beneath you, is it?”

  Hallam held up his hands in a conciliatory gesture, but Dakota just smiled again. Then the robotic waiter, who had obviously been righted again and cleaned up – though Hallam could still see some burger sauce on its chassis – arrived with their food. It set down two beers, followed by Hallam’s cheeseburger and finally Dakota’s Hawaiian pizza.

  Dakota grabbed a slice and attacked it enthusiastically. “Well, hopefully, we can get through tonight without any more unpleasant experiences,” she said, this time through a mouthful of food.

  Hallam’s face scrunched up as he watched Dakota massacre the pizza. “I don’t know. Even after everything that just happened, I think the most upsetting thing I’ve seen tonight is you eating that monstrosity of a pizza.”

  Hallam picked up his burger, but before he could bring it to his lips, he was hit in the face by something wet and slightly squishy. He looked down to see a chunk of cooked pineapple on his plate, nestled amongst his fries, before looking up to see Dakota flashing her eyes at him.

  5

  Draga Vex launched a thumping front kick at a stack of metal containers, sending them crashing down. The contents spilled out all over the deck of Cad Rikkard’s private hangar on the Centrum, but Draga was too furious to care. Alexis Black stormed in moments later with Cad Rikkard a second behind.

  “We should go back and gut them while we still have the chance,” Alexis snarled. “Take them out quick and clean, before they even know what hit them.”

  Cad looked at the scattered contents of the containers, a mix of food supplies and maintenance equipment, and sighed.

  “I don’t suppose you’re going to pick all that crap up?” Cad asked, directing the question to Draga.

  The mercenary merely folded her arms and stared back at him, her fierce eyes framed by the jet-black eyeliner. “Alexis is right; we can’t let this stand,” she said, ignoring Cad’s flippant question. “That man – Hallam Knight – humbled us, publicly. You know better than anyone how quickly word can spread. Soon he won’t be the only one who thinks he can stand up to us.”

  Cad scowled and stepped across to the control panel beside the hangar door and pressed a button, causing the thick double doors to slide shut. He then punched in another sequence of commands, and a small army of maintenance bots scurried out of compartments in the wall. They began a ballet of interlinked maneuvers, with some collecting up the spilled supplies, and others re-stacking the containers once they were filled again.

  Suddenly, Draga launched a kick at one of the smaller robots, punting it toward the far side of the hangar. “Damn it, Cad, forget the supplies! I can’t believe you’re going to let this slide,” she snapped.

  “Of course I’m not going to let this slide,” Cad hit back, stepping between the two women. “But even I can’t just waltz into a Consortium bar and murder two bridge runners in full view of everyone.”

  “You were ready to fillet that guy with a steak knife earlier,” said Alexis, appearing calmer now that Cad had confirmed some form of retaliation was necessary. “What’s different now?”

  “The difference is now I’m thinking clearly,” replied Cad firmly. “You two need to clear your heads too. This isn’t Pales or Vediovis; we can’t just take someone out and bury them in the mountains. We need to be smart.”

  “You don’t pay me to be smart,” said Draga, still with her arms tightly folded.

  “No, I pay you to do what I tell you,” replied Cad, with his usual smooth confidence.

  “So what’s your plan?” Alexis cut in. “I assume you do have a plan?”

  The corner of Cad’s stubble-fringed mouth curled up into a self-assured smile. “I always have a plan. It’s why I asked the guy his name,” said Cad smugly. “Hallam Knight is a gunner on Consortium Armored Tanker RS-13. And Consortium Armored Tanker RS-13 just so happens to be docked in the adjacent hangar.”

  Now it was Alexis whose lips curled into a smile, though Draga remained stony; it took more than Cad’s smooth words to impress her. Alexis moved to the hangar’s computer terminal and accessed the station’s structural models. These were normally highly-classified files, but Cad had previously been granted access. This was so that his Blackfire Squadron could familiarize themselves with the subtle nooks and crannies of the station in the event that Darkspace Renegades managed to board, and he was tasked to hunt them down.

  “We can bypass the main door to the hangar if we move through these service crawlspaces,” said Alexis, highlighting the route with her finger. “I can intercept the security camera's data stream from this network and switch and feed their system with a dummy image. Then we drop down in to the hangar and sabotage their ship.”

  Draga finally unfurled her arms from around her chest and stepped beside Alexis, peering down at the schematics with narrowed eyes. “That’s all well and good, but how will anyone know it was us?” she asked, turning to Cad. “We need to send a message.”

  Cad shook his head. “Not this time, Draga. We can’t be associated with the destruction of a Consortium Tanker; it could cost me my contract.”

  Draga grunted, but then Alexis chimed back in. “I wouldn’t worry about people not taking the hint,” she said, wiping her activity history before shutting down the computer terminal. “A couple of tanker drivers get into a fight with us on the Centrum, then a day later, their atoms are scattered across a hundred light years of space as a result of a freak bridging accident.” She flashed her eyes, “Everyone will assume we did it, but there’ll be no way to pin it on us, so our contract will be safe. If anything, it will only enhance our reputation.”

  Draga grunted again. “Fine, but I still prefer my plan to just snap their necks and be done with it.”

  “Objection noted,” said Cad smoothly. “Now grab the gear you need and let’s get this done. We’re due on Carmentis in a couple of days to facilitate a quick end to a dumb turf war.”

  “Facilitate how?” asked Draga, appearing more interested in their next job than their current task.

  “Let’s just say it’s the sort of job that suits your less-than-subtle approach to dispute resolution…” replied Cad as he walked toward the open cargo bay of his fighter craft.

  “Good, then let’s get this done so we can move on,” said Draga.

  “Are you going to grab one of your many weapons?” asked Alexis, returning from the cargo hold of her fighter, which was emblazoned with a raven skull emblem, similar to the pendant she wore around her neck.

  “If we meet any resistance, I’ll deal with them with my fists,” Draga replied coldly.

  Cad then returned from his hangar with a sidearm clipped into his holster and the ornate black and gold hilt of a sword protruding from his scabbard.

  “Not stabbed enough people today?” teased Alexis, pulling on a close-fitting backpack and slotting a palm computer into a holster on her hip.

  “There’s a good chance we might run into a dock worker or m
aintenance crew,” replied Cad. “So it’s best to be prepared.”

  Alexis led them away toward the crawlspace entrance and began using a combat multi-tool to remove the bolts securing it in place.

  “I hope we do run into someone,” said Draga, still seeming to be in a stormy mood. “First those idiot card players backed out of a fight, then you stopped me from pulverizing Knight and his cocky little friend. Someone needs to bleed tonight, and I don’t care who it is.”

  Alexis removed the final bolt, then lifted the access panel to the crawlspace off the wall.

  “I’ll go ahead and make a start on bypassing the security feed,” said Alexis, ducking into the crawlspace.

  Draga motioned to enter the crawlspace next, but Cad grabbed her arm and held her back. “Bleed someone if you need to,” he said, fixing Draga’s penetrating, black-framed eyes with his own unblinking stare, “but I don’t want any bodies, is that clear?” His tone was intentionally harsh, to make sure Draga got the message. She may have been more than just a member of his team – she was also his friend – but there was a time and a place for letting off steam, and this was not it.

  The stark change in Cad’s demeanor cleared the storm clouds circling above Draga, as if they were suddenly standing in the eye of a tornado.

  “I understand,” said Draga, calmly and without any resentment. “No one will die, at least not today.”

  Cad released his hold and smiled, allowing some of his usual character to bleed through his rocky expression. “Now let’s rig this tanker to blow, so we can put your talents to good use again.”

  6

  By the time Cad Rikkard had hauled his way through the crawlspace to the hangar where Hallam Knight’s tanker was docked, Alexis Black had already rigged the security bypass. Security systems and computers in general were Alexis’ specialty – or the “tech stuff,” as Cad liked to call it. Cad employed this phrase often, much to the annoyance of Alexis, who didn’t take kindly to her talents being described in such mediocre terms.

  The three members of Blackfire Squadron all had their unique abilities, which complemented each other like a blade and scabbard. Draga Vex’s talent was far easier for Cad to understand and describe, but she was far from a blunt instrument – though she could be used as such when required. More broadly, Draga’s specialty was pain, and inflicting it in such a way that Cad got the outcome he desired. Whether it was extracting information with excruciating efficiency or simply storming a camp or stronghold with brutal ruthlessness, Draga had the requisite tools in her arsenal. So long as Cad fed her hunger, Draga was happy.

  As for himself, Cad was the businessman. Though he wasn’t known for his modesty, he didn’t describe himself as the brains of the operation, as this was too simplistic. Each of them was as sharp as their respective blades, and everyone contributed ideas and strategies, but it was Cad who called the shots. He picked the jobs, he negotiated the pay, and he collected when the job was done. And if the job allowed him to indulge his own personal hobby – namely swords, and their employment in dealing death – then so much the better. However, what Cad Rikkard cared about above all else was his reputation. Like the blade of his sword, his name had been forged in the heat and fire of battle. He was the best and would do anything to protect this status and reinforce his superiority. This was why Hallam Knight had to die. He’d made him look weak, and to Cad, that was more agonizing than any form of torture.

  “What took you so long? I thought we’d have to do this without you,” said Alexis as Cad dragged himself inside the crawlspace junction.

  “Yes, well this is a lot easier when you’re only a hundred and thirty pounds,” said Cad, trying to shuffle his frame into a more comfortable position. He was solidly built, but at five feet ten, he was hardly a man mountain. “How the hell do they expect anyone to work in here?”

  “Maintenance is mostly done by bots these days,” replied Alexis, packing her compact palm computer back into its pouch. “We’re probably the first people to come in here since the Centrum was built.”

  “This is fascinating, but are we ready to get on with this or not?” complained Draga, who looked as uncomfortable as Cad felt.

  “We’re done; the security feed will just show an empty hangar. I’ve set it up to loop the recording from the last hour, with some on-the-fly digital modifications so that the security system’s AI doesn’t flag it as a duplicated feed.”

  “Smart…” said Cad, genuinely impressed.

  “That’s my job,” replied Alexis. “Now we just need to take that crawlspace directly to our right and drop down at the next junction.”

  They continued on through the narrow tunnels with Alexis again out front, until they reached another access panel. Alexis removed the bolts and gently slid the panel across. Draga moved up to the opening and peeked outside before quickly ducking back into the crawlspace.

  “There’s one CSF Enforcer inside; looks like he’s catching up on some sleep, useless asshole,” said Draga.

  “Take him out, nice and clean,” said Cad, aiming a finger at Draga. “But remember what I said. And don’t let him see your face. You’re quite memorable.”

  “The only thing he’ll be seeing is stars,” said Draga, stepping out of the opening with a nimbleness that was unexpected for someone with her powerful physique and unyielding posture. A few seconds later, there were several dull thuds and muffled grunts. Cad then moved out of the crawlspace to see the enforcer draped over Draga’s shoulder like some animal she’d killed on a hunt. Blood was dripping from his lip and nose.

  “Don’t worry, he isn’t dead,” said Draga, anticipating Cad’s next question. “What do we do with him, though? We can’t have him raise the alarm before the tanker departs.”

  Cad rubbed his stubbled chin and peered around the room. He was annoyed that he hadn’t considered the problem of what to do with anyone they encountered inside. He was already regretting their little revenge plan, but as was often the case, his pridefulness overrode his better judgment. Cad was the top private mercenary in all twelve systems, with a one hundred per cent record of getting the job done. Dealing with the Consortium’s cantankerous boss, Damien Doyle, as well as other similar tyrants, had forced him to develop a thick skin. He could tolerate a lot of things, but being humiliated was not one of them. Hallam Knight had slighted him, and something had to be done. However, Cad now realized that to get this job done would require more extreme measures than he’d anticipated.

  “Dump him inside one of the empty supply crates,” said Cad, pointing to a likely candidate at the rear of the hangar. “Alexis can then hack its status indicator and show it’s for loading onto the tanker.”

  Both women looked at each other, then cocked eyebrows at him. “What happened to ‘I don’t want any bodies’?” asked Draga.

  “I’m amending it to ‘I don’t want any bodies left on the station for someone to find and use to tie us back to their murder’, okay?” answered Cad, a little testily.

  “Suits me just fine,” said Draga, pacing over to the empty container and dumping the body of the unconscious enforcer inside. Alexis then moved over to the container and started to hack into its status panel.

  “Go watch the door,” Cad said, turning back to Draga. “Hopefully, we won’t be disturbed, but you know what to do if we are.”

  Draga smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Alexis returned to Cad’s side as Draga headed away. “It’s done. When they scan it, the container will read as 'essential supplies.' Food, water, that sort of thing. They’ll load it on-board with the Randenite barrels.”

  Cad nodded, finally satisfied that things were getting on track. His initial plan may have been flawed, but he prided himself on his ability to adapt. It was why he was still alive. No plan, no matter how well considered, played out exactly as expected. Life was inherently unpredictable; survival in his line of work was a case of adapt or die.

  “Do your thing while Draga watches the doors,�
�� said Cad, resting a hand on the hilt of his sword like an eighteenth-century army general posing for a portrait.

  “I’m going to need a hand accessing the control systems for the Shelby Drive,” Alexis said to Cad before heading toward the movable staircase that climbed up to the tanker’s main access hatch. The thick blocks of armor that covered the inner hull were already swung up to reveal the inner door.

  Cad followed Alexis, looking up at the battle-scarred tanker, which seemed to be missing a number of sections of its armor. He scanned his eyes around the hangar and saw that replacement armor blocks were lined up at the far end, presumably awaiting installation.

  “We need to hurry,” said Cad, realizing that repair work on the armored tanker had yet to be fully completed. “It looks like this tanker took a pounding on the way here. A maintenance crew could arrive at any moment, and there’s only so many people we can stuff inside crates before someone starts to get suspicious.”

  Alexis nodded and quickened her pace. Using her compact palm computer, she worked fast to bypass the tanker's locking mechanism, and the hatch swung open. Alexis hurried inside as Cad cast a glance over to Draga, who was positioned next to the main hangar door, cautiously peeking through the porthole window. She saw Cad looking over and gave him a thumbs-up.

  Ducking through the hatch, Cad then rushed through the internal space of the tanker, which was surprisingly claustrophobic, considering the bulk of the craft. He found Alexis inside the main engineering section at the rear of the vessel. It was separated from the front section by a thick metal door. Variations of this shielded compartment existed on all ships equipped with Shelby Drives, due to the radiation risk the unique engine system posed. Cad had seen the effects that Randenite radiation had on the human body firsthand. Even a small leak from a malfunctioning Shelby Drive could prove fatal in a matter of hours. Their demises were also far from pleasant, and shocking even to someone as used to death as Cad was.