Rikkard's Revenge: A Military Sci-Fi Series (Darkspace Renegade Book 4) Page 10

  Dakota stepped forward, ready to attack again, but Hallam caught her arm and held her back. “Dak, we have to go; we can’t beat this thing,” he said as the machine began to right itself, warbling even more aggressively. “I almost busted my suit with that last punch,” he added. Then he noticed that the warbot’s eye was flickering, as if its program was glitching. “Besides, I think smacking it on the head just made it worse.”

  The alien machine appeared to be regarding Hallam and Dakota with more caution than it had done earlier. It then peered into the wall cavity that had been exposed by Dakota’s earlier fall, reached inside and tore out a thick metal pipe.

  “I think you’re right,” said Dakota, eyes widening at the sight of the warbot’s improvised weapon. “I don’t know how to speak alien warbot, but I know hacked off when I see it…”

  Hallam and Dakota turned and ran, hearing the thud of heavy metal legs charging after them. They crashed through the door at the opposite end of the building and saw Dr. Rand waiting at the entrance to a side street.

  “This way!” Dr. Rand cried out, waving them over with the shielded metal case.

  The warbot smashed through the wall to the side of the door and skidded to a halt, rubble falling from its metal skeleton. Its eye scanned the surrounding area, spotting Hallam and Dakota racing toward the side street as fast as their armored legs could carry them. Hallam glanced back and cursed, realizing that the machine was gaining on them.

  “We need to move faster!” Dakota cried, also noticing the rapid advance of the alien machine.

  Hallam would have usually replied with a sarcastic comment about Dakota stating the obvious, but she suddenly disappeared from his side. There was sharp, metallic-sounding clatter, like trash cans being rammed by a car. Hallam slid to a stop, sparks flying from his metal boots as they ground across the surface of the alien street. Turning back, he saw that Dakota had been tripped by the metal pipe the machine had been holding and sent hurtling through the silvered window of a nearby building. The warbot then threw itself at Hallam, forcing him to tear his eyes away from the window, despite his gut twisting in a knot with concern for Dakota. Acting on instinct, Hallam caught the machine in mid-air and tossed it aside, sending it smashing through the rubble of a recently-collapsed building. Frantically looking around for anything he could use as a weapon, Hallam pulled a thick metal beam from the pile of debris. It was roughly the size of a small street signpost and felt weighty in Hallam’s hands, despite the power assistance from his armor.

  The alien warbot pulled itself out of the wreckage, shaking off the rock and metal like droplets of water. It too then reached into the wreckage and drew out a metal beam. Hallam swallowed hard, not relishing the prospect of being clubbed by the powerful machine. Then he saw Dakota out of the corner of his eye. She was staggering out of the alien building, her iridescent black power armor scuffed and battered, yet she did not appear to be seriously hurt. The warbot warbled again and took careful steps toward Hallam. He was already tired of hearing the machine’s grating shrieks. It was worse than cats fighting in an alley outside your window, when all you wanted to do was sleep, Hallam thought. He stepped out to meet the machine, ready the swat the bot’s squawking head clean off its shoulders.

  “I’ll try to distract it,” Dakota called over, circling around to the other side of the warbot. Her face and hair were covered in thick, grey dust.

  “If you can get it to turn away from me and attack you, I’ll knock the damn thing into orbit,” said Hallam, gripping the metal beam like a baseball bat.

  Dakota picked up a hefty chunk of rubble from the collapsed building and tossed it at the machine. It thudded into its back, causing the warbot to spin around and reply with a bassy whine that vibrated through Hallam’s chest, like a nightclub subwoofer.

  “I’m not sure I like the idea of being the bait, Hal…” she said, backing away as the machine turned its blue eye to her.

  “Just carry on being annoying,” said Hallam, stalking the warbot and tightening his grip on the beam. “That shouldn’t be hard for you.”

  Dakota scowled at Hallam, not appreciating the quip, especially given their circumstances. The roar of starship engines then filled the air, and Hallam looked up to see their stolen mercenary fighter soaring above them, shining vividly in the increasingly hot sun. It dropped lower and began to hover just above the roof level of the buildings, with its rear ramp already lowered.

  “Get ready. I’m going to give you your chance,” said Dakota, wary that the warbot was now only a few meters from her. She then flapped her arms like a frightened chicken, momentarily drawing the machine’s full attention. Hallam’s grip on the beam had become so tight that his fingers had pressed indentations into the metal. The warbot then darted toward Dakota, who rolled out of the way, giving Hallam a clear opening. Swinging the metal beam with all his augmented might, the blow struck cleanly, ringing the warbot’s head like a dinner gong. The immense power of the swing sent the machine sailing through the air and crashing through a top-floor window of an adjacent building.

  “I didn’t have you down for a power hitter,” said Dakota, looking genuinely impressed with the strike.

  “It’s all down to proper motivation,” said Hallam, tossing the beam to the ground as the mercenary fighter lowered to street level.

  They both ran inside the ship, Dakota immediately switching places with Dr. Rand in the pilot’s seat.

  “Nice work, Doc,” said Hallam, standing behind Dakota and keeping a wary eye out for the machine, unconvinced he’d put it down for good. Then he noticed that the auxiliary console was reading the external temperature as one hundred and thirty, and climbing by the second. He shook his head, realizing that if they stayed for much longer, they’d end up as permanent residents. Hallam dropped into the auxiliary seat and hurriedly strapped in, then looked at Dakota. “Now let’s get out of here before this planet cooks us alive.”

  13

  Dakota lifted the fighter higher above the alien street, but before she’d cleared the tops of the buildings, Hallam caught sight of something moving along the roofline. Unfastening his harness, he rushed beside Dakota’s chair to get a clearer view through the cockpit glass. Then he shook his head, scarcely believing what he was seeing.

  “Dak, bank hard left, now!” Hallam cried out, but it was already too late. The alien warbot had scrambled along the rooftops and flung itself at the fighter in a freakish display of speed and agility. There was a hard thud against the hull and Hallam knew they were in desperate trouble.

  “I’ll try to shake it off!” Dakota called out, tipping the wings violently from side to side, but the warbot was somehow locked on to the hull like a magnet. Hallam peered toward the rear of the ship and saw the warbot clawing its way toward the cockpit. Cursing, he reached over Dakota and activated the armor shields from her console. Then he spun back and watched as the metal barriers slid over the canopy a fraction of a second before the machine’s fists hammered into them.

  “Hal, I can’t see!” Dakota cried. “Turn on the damn virtual view.”

  Hallam practically threw himself at the auxiliary console and cycled through the command menu to find out why the virtual view had not activated. Hard thuds continued to reverberate through the cockpit, like a drum beating the call to war. However, according to the ship’s computer, the virtual cockpit view should have been active.

  “I don’t get it, the system should be online,” Hallam called back to Dakota, hammering his fists on the console out of frustration.

  “I found the ship part-buried under some fallen rubble,” Dr. Rand commented. “It’s likely we’ve taken some moderate damage.”

  Dakota cursed while continuing to shake the ship from side to side. However, without being able to see where they were going, Hallam knew that Dakota’s options were limited. If her moves were too aggressive, they risked crashing and burning even before the warbot tore them out of the sky.

  “We have to get that thi
ng off the hull,” Dakota called over to Hallam. “These armor shields won’t last long.”

  Hallam had an idea, though it was ranked as one of the craziest that had ever popped into his head. Even so, he didn’t see an alternative. Pushing away from his console, he made his way aft, though his departure had not gone unnoticed by Dakota.

  “Where the hell are you going?” Dakota shouted after him, peering over her shoulder.

  Hallam pulled open one of the weapons lockers. “Get ready to lower the rear ramp,” he shouted back. Rummaging through the many weapons in the locker, he found a grenade launcher and hastily loaded it. “I’m going out there to clean this bug off our windshield.”

  “Are you mad? You can’t go out there!” Dakota cried over the sound of more hard thumps on the armor shields.

  “If you have a better idea, Dak, now is the time…” said Hallam, reaching the rear of the fighter and grabbing hold of the handrail. He glanced toward the cockpit and sucked in a deep breath. “Open the ramp, Dak, it’s the only way.”

  Dakota growled, then turned back to her consoles. A second later, the ramp began to lower. The sudden gust of air inside would have normally unbalanced Hallam, but his power armor was still holding strong. Slinging the grenade launcher, he climbed out onto the top of the fighter, between its two powerful main engines.

  The rush of air assaulted Hallam’s eyes and made them stream with water, but he was able to blink away the wetness enough to see the warbot ahead of him. Climbing a little further toward the machine, Hallam found a solid handhold and gripped onto it with his left glove before carefully unslinging the weapon. Dakota was flying straight and level now, but far ahead of them, Hallam could see a majestic tower. It rose easily three kilometers into the sky before abruptly ending in a jagged scar, where its peak had been torn off sometime in the distant past. The tower was littered with holes punctured throughout its wide structure, as if it had been blasted with an enormous blunderbuss.

  Hallam tore his eyes away from the colossal building and focused on the warbot. The machine’s relentless battering of the armor shields was now causing them to buckle. Hooking its claw-like appendage underneath a crack in the metal, the warbot began to pull back the panels, like peeling an orange to reveal the softer flesh underneath. Hallam took aim with the grenade launcher as a discarded panel of armor flashed by his head so close, he heard the rush of air. The bot raised its arm again, ready to smash the glass, and Hallam fired.

  The explosion sent a cloud of bitter smoke rushing into Hallam’s eyes, temporarily blinding him. He blinked away the stinging tears and saw that the warbot’s blue eye had turned to him, its arm blown clean off at the elbow joint. The machine uttered a string of angry warbles, but Hallam wasn’t going to give it a chance to retaliate. Aiming the launcher again, Hallam held his breath and fired a second grenade. This time, he struck the machine in the dead center of its vee-shaped eye, blowing its cranial unit clean off. Seconds later, the warbot’s vise-like hold on the fighter relaxed, and it slid off the hull. However, Hallam’s feelings of elation at destroying the machine were soon quashed. The warbot was on a collision course directly for him. Tossing the weapon aside, Hallam flattened his body to the hull and tucked in his head as tightly as possible. The frame of the warbot then thudded over his body, like a stampede of cattle, before finally tumbling out into freefall toward the broken city below. Hallam winced, feeling each thud reverberate through his bones, but his grip had held. Another swell of elation flooded through his body and was nullified just as quickly as he realized the enormous skyscraper was still dead ahead. More than this, Dakota couldn’t see it.

  Cursing again, Hallam climbed back down the hull, his movements feeling stiffer and more labored than before, and tentatively dropped into the cargo hold. “Dak, lower the shields and bank hard, now!” he called out, but with the ramp still lowered, his words were just sucked out into the open sky. Thudding the button to close the hatch, Hallam tried to make his way to the cockpit, but his movements were slow and arduous. He fell to his knees, suddenly exposed to the full weight of the armor. Glancing over his shoulder, he could see sparks of electricity fizzing all over his back. He realized that the warbot must have damaged the suit’s power systems when it clattered over him. The ramp then thudded shut and sealed tightly, and Hallam called out again, “Dak, turn now!”

  This time, Dakota heard his voice, but it was clear she hadn’t understood his words, because she was smiling at him. The virtualized view suddenly flicked on, as if a loose wire had reconnected, revealing the massive skyscraper, directly ahead. This time, it was Dakota that cursed, but there was no time to turn away. With the suit anchoring Hallam to the deck, all he could do was watch and hope that Dakota’s pilot’s instincts would see them through. Dakota grabbed the controls and angled them toward one of the gaping holes in the titanic structure. The air ahead of the ship was then lit up with a torrent of cannon fire. Dakota was trying to use their guns to literally burrow a tunnel through the gigantic tower. The cockpit was suddenly cast into shadow as the ship plunged into the fissure. The sound of metal grinding against metal became deafening, and Hallam was sure they were about to be torn apart. Then the mercenary fighter burst through the other side of the building, like a whale breaching out of the sea. Dakota pulled up hard and lowered what remained of their shields, then turned away from the scorching heat of the sun and aimed for deep space.

  Hallam rocked himself from left to right, until eventually, he toppled onto the deck of the fighter’s cargo hold and lay there on his back, unable to move. However, he wouldn’t have moved even if the suit still had power. He was grateful for the opportunity to rest, even if it was only for a short time. Because although they’d conquered the challenges of the alien thirteenth bridge world, he knew that even greater challenges still lay ahead.

  14

  Cad Rikkard and Alexis Black sat on top of Cad’s fighter, observing the tedious and repetitive goings on in the sprawling CryoFoods plant. Cad had landed in a clearing, high up on a mountain overlooking the valley that had been entirely overtaken by the behemoth industrial operation. CryoFoods was a Consortium-owned business and the biggest food production company on Tellus. It supplied engineered food products, in addition to cryo-frozen fresh produce, to almost every bridge world. However, to Cad, the only interesting thing about the place was its size. The entire operation was like a small city, providing work and housing for tens of thousands of people.

  It was also an unusual venue for the type of work that Cad had been hired to undertake. Mercenaries and private military companies were not typically found on Tellus, though he couldn’t deny they were now living in unusually turbulent times. News of the gravitational instabilities in the Vesta system had already caused widespread fears, which had escalated into full-blown panic when word of Minerva’s destruction had spread. There was already rioting on some worlds, as demands for answers were met with dull platitudes and empty reassurances. Panic buying and looting was increasing, and the already near-lawless outer worlds had become melting pots of rampant crime and violence. Considering how every bridge world relied on each other to a greater or lesser extent, the provision of food was a particular concern. The demand for CryoFoods’ various products had rocketed by four hundred percent overnight. Demand was vastly outstripping supply, which made food one of the most valuable commodities in the galaxy. As such, Tellus and CryoFoods, in particular, had just become a prime target for the many criminal gangs that operated in the outer worlds.

  The Forsaken was one such gang. They were a notorious and ruthless criminal organization stemming from Vediovis. The Consortium’s spy network had received word that the Forsaken intended to hijack the dozen CryoFoods Super Freighters that were sitting in the gigantic loading dock, carved into the mountains to the east of the factory city. With the Consortium’s own Enforcer resources stretched thin dealing with rioting and crime on the other bridge worlds, the Blackfire Squadron, along with a number of other private mil
itary companies, had been hired to protect the plant and the freighters. However, while the other mercs had all taken up various duties, guarding entry points to the facility or other key locations, such as the loading dock, Cad knew the real fight would come later. He was content for the Forsaken and the other PMCs to duke it out first before he swooped in to take all the glory.

  Cad had only taken the job on Tellus as a way to pass the time, until he and Alexis were ready to move on Damien Doyle at his Governors Island penthouse on Earth. He needed the magnate to demand an audience with him. For Cad to request a meeting would have aroused suspicion in the mind of the already distrustful man. Cad had never asked to meet Doyle before. It had always been the other way around. He was actually surprised that the tycoon hadn’t already summoned him, but Cad knew that Doyle would eventually. And when that happened, Cad would be ready.

  To some extent, Cad appreciated getting back to normality, though without Draga Vex, it still didn’t feel quite right. And despite his best efforts, he’d been unable to get Hallam Knight out of his head. Yet Alexis had been right. Damien Doyle needed to be dealt with first, before the vindictive multi-trillionaire became desperate and started cleaning house. If the magnate couldn’t conceal his accountability for the gravitational anomalies, he would eradicate anyone who could implicate him. Cad and Alexis would be top of his list. A dozen Consortium facilities, including Doyle’s data bunker on Fortuna, had already been purged, and at least fifty high-level Consortium employees had gone missing in mysterious circumstances.