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

  Cad and Alexis reloaded their SMGs and hurried after the machine, which had burst through the door to the roof level, smashing it off its hinges. Gunfire erupted above him and Cad advanced through the door and ran into cover. Doyle’s former protection bot had already cut down two more of the remaining enforcers and was busily stomping its enormous foot down onto the chest of another, flattening the man like roadkill. However, the remaining six Crimson Lynx Enforcers were all now concentrating their fire on the machine. And, unlike the alien warbot that Cad had fought on Doyle’s secret rogue world, this earthlier contraption was not invulnerable to bullets. Cad knew it would not survive much longer, and without it as an ally, neither would he and Alexis.

  Alexis ran up alongside Cad, shooting and killing another of the enforcers, but they were then pinned down by gunfire as the remainder of the Crimson Lynx squad turned their weapons on them. Cad chanced a look and saw that the bot was now just a smoldering pile of pockmarked metal on the ground. They were outgunned and without the advantage of their power armor.

  “Damn, I hoped that thing would have taken out a few more of them before it bought it,” cursed Cad as bullets rattled off the cooling duct they were crouched behind. Cad peeked out from cover again, taking a mental image of their surroundings in the time it took to blink an eye. “Go left on three, and draw them away from the ship,” Cad continued, stroking the bottom of his chin with his thumb. “I have an idea.”

  Alexis nodded then waited for Cad to lay down covering fire before sprinting toward the opposite side of the roof, using the enormous ventilation fan assemblies for cover. Cad watched as Alexis picked off another of the Crimson Lynx squad, drawing their fire and focus away from his position. With the enforcers unsighted, Cad dropped down to a lower level and ran as hard as he could toward the landing platform where his fighter was waiting. He was about to leap up to grab the metal frame of the walkway next to the landing pad, when two CSF fighters buzzed past the tower, causing him to instinctively duck out of sight. He cursed, realizing that he should have accounted for the possibility of aerial resistance. He adjusted his plan on the fly, then climbed up onto the walkway.

  Shaking the pain from his throbbing fingers, Cad peered across the roof toward the remaining members of the Crimson Lynx squad. He felt his pulse quicken as he realized he couldn’t see Alexis, though the barked orders and continued rattle of gunfire told him they were closing in on her fast. Racing across to his fighter, Cad hit the button to lower the ramp. He squeezed inside as soon as the gap had grown wide enough and tumbled hard to the deck of the cargo bay. He groaned, again forgetting that he was not wearing his power armor, which would have spared him the pain of the fall.

  Rubbing his throbbing shoulder, Cad pushed himself up and yanked Doyle’s tablet computer out of his back pocket, tossing it onto a shelving rack. He then jumped into the leg section of his power armor, which was suspended in its storage rack. The armor activated and adjusted its fit automatically before the torso section dropped down from above and angled toward him, allowing Cad to pull it on like a sweater. The two sections of armor sealed and he heard the thrum of the suit’s energy core building to full power. Grabbing his Black Prince sword, Cad drew it from its sheath, then pulled a rifle from the weapons rack and raced down the now fully-opened ramp. However, he’d barely turned the corner before he was confronted by four Crimson Lynx Enforcers. Two were aiming their weapons at him, while the others were pointing the barrels of their SMGs at the head of Alexis Black, pressed to her knees in front of them. Her hands were behind her head, and there was blood oozing from a wound to her shoulder and from a cut above her eye. Cad’s grip on the handle of the Black Prince sword tightened, and he glared out at the Crimson Lynx Enforcers. He didn’t know which one of them had injured Alexis, and he didn’t care. They’d all suffer the same fate, he vowed.

  “That’s enough!” one of the enforcers barked, stepping out and confronting Cad. “It’s over. Drop your weapons, or we kill her and then you!”

  Cad rested the rifle over his shoulder, glancing first into Alexis’ eyes, which peered back at him fearlessly, and then at the enforcer who had addressed him.

  “Damien Doyle is dead, as is your sergeant, Miller, along with seven more of your squad mates,” said Cad, ignoring the enforcer’s threat. “You will be next. Your only choice is how painful your deaths will be.”

  The CSF fighters buzzed past the tower again, and in the distance, Cad could see four enforcer dropships approaching from the city. The commotion and gunfire – not to mention the three splats of human flesh on the plaza surrounding Doyle’s tower – had no doubt led to the local authorities being alerted.

  “I don’t think you can count,” the enforcer hit back. “There are four of us and just you. Even in that armor, you can’t get us all before we put a bullet in her head. So drop your weapons!”

  Cad smiled at the man then slowly drew the rifle down from his shoulder, aiming it harmlessly off to the side. “It’s never just me,” Cad said, tossing the rifle to the ground, causing the enforcers to relax their postures ever so slightly. “We are the Blackfire Squadron,” he continued, pointing the tip of the sword toward the discarded rifle. “And I don’t need that to take down just four of you.”

  Alexis sprang into action, jerking her head away from the barrels of the SMGs and thrusting out her arms, deflecting the weapons a fraction of a second before they fired. Cad was moving before the shell casings had even hit the ground, utilizing the speed of his armor to rush the enforcers and take them by surprise. Bullets thudded into the iridescent black metal and Cad felt the sting of pain, but his sword arm was already in motion, slicing through the necks of the two enforcers who’d shot at him. Blood splattered the two other men, painting their crimson armor in a brighter shade of red, and Cad again felt bullets hammer into his body. The second swing of the sword was faster and even more ferocious than the first. Cad roared, fueling the swing with all his pent-up rage and aggression. The closest of the two remaining enforcers was cut in half above the waist. The blade then continued on with enough momentum to lodge itself into the body of the final enforcer, slicing five inches deep into his flesh, beneath the armpit. The man screamed in agony, but his cries were short lived. Cad withdrew the blade and swung it down hard across his opposite shoulder, splitting him in half. The sword dug itself into the ground and Cad remained frozen to the spot, chest heaving, teeth gritted and face covered in the hot, fresh blood of his fallen enemies.

  Alexis climbed to her feet and walked up beside Cad. The relief of seeing her alive allowed him to wrestle back control of his emotions and calm the bloodlust that had overwhelmed him.

  Alexis scrunched up her nose at the bloody scene at her feet and tutted. “What a mess…” she said, shaking her head.

  Cad then noticed her wounds and his heart began to race again. He hurriedly went to check them, but Alexis brushed him off.

  “I’m fine, don’t fuss,” snapped Alexis. With the Crimson Lynx Squad all dead, but the CSF fighters still looming above them, she was somewhere between her warrior persona and the flippant Alexis Black that didn’t take anything seriously.

  Cad scowled at Alexis and poked his finger into three holes that had been added to Alexis’ recently-appropriated combat vest. “I told you it was a good idea to wear this,” he said. However, it was not an attempt at levity. Cad was deadly serious.

  Alexis then pointed to her bleeding shoulder and shrugged. “Three out of four ain’t bad, I suppose…” The roar of the CSF fighters circling around for another pass brought her attention back into sharper focus, pushing the flippant Alexis Black further into the shadows. “I think we’ve outstayed our welcome at Doyle Towers,” Alexis added, glaring up at the CSF ships.

  Both hurried back to their mercenary fighter, and Cad dropped into the pilot’s seat. He engaged the engines and prepared to take off, keeping half an eye on the CSF ships, which had now slowed to a hover in front of him. The four local enforcer dropships
had also now surrounded the tower, and were shining powerful searchlights onto Cad’s ship. Checking his console, Cad could see that his radio was alive with chatter, none of which he had any interest in tuning in to. No doubt it was just more demands for him to surrender. Procedures and red tape… Cad mused, mocking the enforcers’ lack of action and indecision. Several of the Crimson Lynx squad could have killed him already, had they only acted instead of demanding that Cad submit. The same was true of the ships encircling him now. One pull of a trigger would have ended the stalemate, but still they waited, following their set procedures and rules. And, like the Crimson Lynx squad, it would cost them their chance of victory. There is only one rule that matters, Cad thought as he prepared to enabled the armor shields. Win, at any cost…

  Cad enabled the armor shields, which rapidly enclosed the ship’s critical systems, then locked onto the CSF fighters. Cannon rounds thudded against their armor panels, but soon the shots flew wide as Cad engaged the thrusters at full power, shooting them skyward like a jack-in-a-box. Squeezing the trigger, Cad launched two missiles and watched as the advanced weapons turned in a sharp arc and obliterated the CSF fighters, lighting up the night sky in a violent burst of orange. The dropships tried in vain to pursue, but Cad knew that they were only planetary aircraft, incapable of matching the advanced mercenary fighter for raw speed and power. Soon the clatter of cannon rounds impacting on the ships’ armor shields diminished then stopped entirely. Then moments later, they had pierced the atmosphere of humanity’s crowded and polluted homeworld and were again venturing out into space. Against all the odds, the mission had been a success. Damien Doyle was dead and no longer a problem. It was another testament to Cad Rikkard’s greatness. Yet one stain on his reputation remained. With the meddlesome tycoon out of the picture, Cad’s thoughts turned to the Wolf Squadron, and to Hallam Knight in particular. Finally, the revenge he so desperately sought would soon be his.

  20

  Hallam Knight toyed with the small plastic beaker on the table, rattling the half-dozen multi-colored pills inside it like dice. After successfully blasting off from the alien homeworld without getting cooked, Dakota had managed to navigate through the star system’s gravitational maze and jump back to Dr. Rand’s now abandoned moon-based hideout. As Dakota had suggested, Cad Rikkard had not nuked it, but left unchecked, the fires from the destroyed renegade fighters had consumed the entire hangar bay, incinerating the bodies of the fallen renegades. In many ways, Hallam was glad of this, as it had spared them from being consumed by the moon’s scavenger animals. And it had also spared Hallam and the others what would have been the harrowing task of laying the dead to rest.

  Unfortunately, the fires had also spread beyond the hangar, consuming much of the rest of the hotchpotch hideout, which had been cobbled together from five mothballed super-freighters that Dr. Rand had salvaged from a deep-space boneyard. Incredibly, Bob the bear had been miraculously spared from the flames by falling underneath the console of Dakota’s destroyed fighter. It was a little scorched, and even more ragged than it had already been, but it was intact. Bob’s story was much the same as their own, Hallam mused. And despite casually dismissing Dakota’s jubilant proclamation that Bob’s survival was a good omen, Hallam couldn’t deny feeling buoyed that the little bear was once again part of the team.

  Unfortunately, Dr. Rand’s personal lab had also been ruined, though the scientist had managed to rescue some equipment and medication from inside locked storage containers. This was enough, she had assured Hallam, to continue his treatments for Randenite exposure. Although, as usual, she had caveated this with a need to visit a dedicated medical facility at some time in the near future.

  Once they had recovered everything of use or value from the hideout, they had no choice but to move on. Fortunately, the hideout’s store of Randenite had been kept safely away from the base, and there was more than enough of the dangerous substance available to fully refuel Alexis Black’s stolen mercenary fighter. At Dr. Rand’s request, they had then travelled to Carmentis, which with Minerva already gone, was now the second most dangerous place in the galaxy. As ever, the enigmatic scientist’s reasons had been mysteriously vague, though she had assured a skeptical Dakota and Hallam that everything would make sense soon enough. The trio were all now sitting outside a large freighter rest stop on the outskirts of Carmentis’ second largest city, where they had all gotten some much needed sleep the night before.

  “You’re supposed to swallow those, not play with them,” said Dakota as Hallam rattled the pills around the plastic beaker for the sixth time.

  “I don’t like taking pills,” complained Hallam, who then tossed the multi-colored tablets into his mouth and washed them down with the remains of his now cold tea. He grimaced, partly from the feel of the pills travelling down his throat, but also from the taste of the tea, which was amongst the most un-tea-like tea he’d ever drunk.

  “See, that wasn’t so bad, was it?” said Dakota, being intentionally patronizing. She then passed him the little biscotti that had been placed on the saucer of her coffee cup. “Here, this will take the taste away.”

  Hallam scowled at the biscuit then took a cautious bite of it, but it felt more like his teeth would crack than the biscotti. “I’d almost forgotten how bad the food is on the outer bridge worlds,” said Hallam, dropping the indestructible biscuit into his mug. It landed with a sharp crack, as if he’d dropped a heavy pebble inside it instead.

  Dakota snorted then tucked into her second fake-bacon roll. Fat dripped off her chin as she took an enormous bite before wiping away the grease with her sleeve.

  Hallam scowled again. “And I’d almost forgotten how bad your taste in food was too,” he said as Dakota chewed on the fake-meat sandwich.

  “You’re such a snob,” Dakota hit back, jabbing the half-eaten roll at him like an accusatory finger. “The only thing in the galaxy better than rest-stop coffee and fake-bacon rolls are the hot-dogs on Pales.”

  Hallam snorted in response to Dakota’s snort, but then Dr. Rand peered over the top of her palm computer, finally chipping in to the conversation. “The hot dogs on Pales are good,” she agreed, causing Dakota to grin and take another hearty bite of the fake-bacon roll.

  “So now that we’ve slept and feasted like Royalty at the…” Hallam paused and looked up at the sign above the door of the rest stop to remind himself of its name. “At the Flying Trotter Café…” he continued, shaking his head in dismay, “where do we go from here? We have the alien tech, but Rikkard has already laid waste to pretty much every hideout and outpost there is. And with the doc’s base destroyed, we have nowhere left to go.”

  Hallam had intended the question for Dr. Rand, but she was again engrossed in the contents of her palm computer.

  “Doc?” said Hallam, trying a more direct approach. “Are you still with us?”

  Dr. Rand lowered the palm computer and met Hallam’s eyes. However, rather than the typical passive aggressive glare of annoyance she often shot him after being interrupted, she looked unusually disturbed. Then she dropped a bombshell bigger than anything Cad Rikkard had thrown at them so far.

  “Damien Doyle is dead,” Dr. Rand said coolly. She then waited for the obligatory utterances of “What!?” and “How?” and “When!” from Hallam and Dakota before going into more detail.

  “The news broke this morning, Carmentian time,” Dr. Rand continued. “The ‘official’ line coming from the Consortium press office, which is naturally being regurgitated as fact by all the Doyle-owned media, is that it was a tragic accident.”

  “A tragic accident?” said Hallam, still struggling to process the news. “You mean, like being suffocated under all the piles of money that he’s amassed?”

  Dakota snorted a laugh, spitting out a little bit of fake-bacon in the process, but the scientist remained stoic. “No, he fell from the top-floor of his tower on Governors Island, New York,” Dr. Rand answered, again with an unemotional coolness.

 
“But that place is like a mile high!” said Dakota, sounding more excited at that fact than shocked by it. “That’s some accident.”

  “Indeed, which leads me to suspect it was no accident at all,” replied Dr. Rand. “And though there are many people that may have wanted Damien Doyle dead, I am at a loss to comprehend who would possess the ability to actually pull it off.”

  “This is good news, though, right?” said Dakota, raising her coffee cup in a celebratory manner. “Surely, with Doyle gone, it will be easier to cut through his media firewall and get our message heard?”

  Dr. Rand considered this for a moment, but the look on her face suggested she was less than convinced. “Perhaps, though, in the short-term, I doubt anything will change,” she eventually said. “The many facets of Doyle’s business empires will carry on as normal. As powerful as he was, we have to remember that there are dozens of senior Consortium executives beneath him, who will all want to protect their jobs and businesses.”

  “I bet there will be one hell of a power struggle for the new top spot,” said Dakota. “Talk about the battle of the biggest low-lives.”

  “Surely there are some people in Doyle’s top management team that aren’t soulless corporate stooges?” said Hallam, trying to be optimistic.

  Dr. Rand tapped on her palm computer for a couple of seconds, then turned the screen to face the others. “Nature abhors a vacuum, Mr. Knight,” said Dr. Rand with a raise of her eyebrows. “Doyle has already been succeeded by this man.”