Voidstalker

THE TEMPLE

Kingpins of industry and finance like Jezebel Thorn dominated much of the interstellar economy; and Aster, like everyone else she had known growing up, regarded them and the other fleeksters with a mixture of envy and contempt. Being roped into one of their schemes was galling.

The children entertained themselves and each other in the back of the sky-taxi, oblivious to the turmoil that occupied their mother’s thoughts all the way back to the apartment. Madam Jezebel would never harm her own grandchildren, but taking them from the medical centre was clearly intended as a message to Aster personally.

Above all, Aster regretted her impulsive decision to go snooping around Lawrence’s office after explicitly telling Felix not to. And now, thanks to that incriminating video, she had no choice but to go along with Jezebel’s blackmail, or risk being framed as the mole.

Given what Jezebel Thorn had insinuated, her mole had to have been Lawrence himself. Who else would have thought to plant a camera outside his office? Why else had he hidden an industrial-grade data chip in his office in a place where most people wouldn’t think to look? And how else would Madam Jezebel have gotten her hands on the video?

Still, the makings of a counter-plan were starting to form in Aster’s mind. She had blurted out how the data chip she had taken was blue in colour, and Jezebel seemed to accept that as fact. If she gave Jezebel a blue data chip and convinced her that it was genuine, then handed over the red data chip – the real one – to the DNI, she could get official protection by the time Jezebel discovered she had been duped.

The sky-taxi alighted on the nearest public landing pad, and the Thorn family walked the short distance back to the apartment. Aster ushered the children through the front door and locked the door behind her, heaving a sigh of relief once she had done so. The children were glad to be home, too, and raced to the living room. After piling onto the couch, they began fighting over the wireless data-glove that controlled the holo-TV.

“Holo-TV, on.” Aster enunciated as she walked into the room.

Responding to her voice command, the holoscreen activated, covering the opposite wall with the projection. The channel happened to be the news.

“…stock price collapsed by an eye-watering 27% after unconfirmed reports that its labs were raided by the DNI. Chairman Darius Avaritio hasn’t been seen in public for…”

Aster plucked the data-glove out of Orion’s hands and slipped it over her own hand, dismissing the news report with a swipe of her fingers and flicking rapidly through the hundreds of channels in search of something other than the evening news.

She found a decent family movie to watch and snapped her fingers with the data-glove to select it. The children moved over to give their mother some room on the couch and she sat down with them, removing the data-glove and tossing it onto the coffee table.

As the movie began to play, Aster was too distracted to pay attention. It was nice to be home, but the first night without him was always hardest, even without the day’s events weighing on her thoughts. She was also bothered by how her mother-in-law had so easily picked up her children from the medical centre. Just how many connections did she have? The paranoia was starting to get to her.

Aster stood up abruptly.

“What’s wrong, mommy?” Rose asked.

“Nothing, sweetheart,” Aster replied with a reassuring smile, “just keep watching the movie. Mommy has some work to do.”

Leaving the children in the living room, Aster went to the master bedroom and shut the door behind her. She approached what looked like an armoured closet on Gabriel’s side of the room and slid her thumb across the sensor panel. The light on the biometric sensor panel went from red to green and the twin doors slid open.

Inside was a humanoid figure with a matte black finish standing still as a statue, its faceless and featureless head drooped in programmed slumber. On its right breast in white letters was emblazoned the model name ‘Maganiel’.

Aster reached up and wrapped her knuckles against the android’s forehead. The android’s eyes lit up electric blue as it activated. It inclined its head towards Aster, looking her straight in the eyes before flash-scanning them.

“Good evening, Aster Thorn,” the android greeted her in a digitised voice without any Human inflections, “Maganiel Mark V online. How may I be of service?”

“Personal protection for the family.” Aster enunciated.

“Understood. The DNA signatures of: Aster Thorn…Orion Thorn…Rose Thorn…Violet Thorn…Leonidas Thorn…Gabriel Thorn…are already stored in my database. Please confirm that these are the individuals who require personal protection.”

“Confirm.” Aster instructed the android.

“Understood.” The maganiel acknowledged, “Please be aware that the use of lethal force is strictly regulated, and in most cases is prohibited, by Asgard Municipal Codes. Do you wish to authorise lethal force?”

“Yes.”

“Understood.” The maganiel replied, “Please be aware that the use of lethal weaponry, including firearms, is strictly regulated, and in most cases is prohibited, by Asgard Municipal Codes. Do you wish to authorise the use of firearms?”

“Yes.”

“Understood.” The maganiel replied, “Mission directive and parameters: confirmed.”

The maganiel reached back into the closet and pulled out a military-issue sidearm, checking the settings before stowing the weapon on a magnetic plate attached to its thigh. Aster stepped aside as the armed android exited the closet and waited quietly in the corner. Mentally exhausted, Aster flopped down on Gabriel’s side of the bed.

After staring at the ceiling for a while, her gaze drifted sideways until she was looking at Gabriel’s bedside table. There in pride of place was a framed holo-photo from their wedding day. It was one of the few times Aster had seen him smile, and it stood in remarkable contrast to the stern expression he usually wore around the house.

Madam Jezebel had attended the ceremony, and paid for the venue. She had even put on an award-winning performance pretending to be thrilled that her son was marrying a colonial girl – even one with multiple engineering degrees. Most of the other guests had been former classmates of hers at engineering school as well as some sinister-looking DNI types that Gabriel presumably knew from work.

At least, they had looked sinister to Aster. She couldn’t help but wonder if the DNI did something to its operatives to make them that way. Was Gabriel always so dour, or had he been put through the same personality-dulling process?

Even so, it was a nice photo, and Aster smiled back.

* * *

Latched onto the underside of a nearby mag-rail track was a small pod, its presence concealed by a variety of cloaking systems. Inside the cramped surveillance pod, two men watched on a holographic screen as the Thorn family stepped out of the sky-taxi and headed inside, following them through the camera network all the way to their front door.

One of the men touched the holographic screen with his finger and thumb and zoomed in on Aster Thorn as she walked away from the camera.

“Damn, that is one fine piece of ass.” He said with grin.

“We’re on assignment, Blake.” The other man reminded him.

“Hey, I’m just saying,” Blake replied unapologetically, “good on the lucky guy who gets to bang that every night. Don’t you think?”

“She’s not really my type.” The other man casually slid his hand across Blake’s thigh.

“Ugh! What the fleek are you doing, Gibson?” Blake wriggled away in alarm.

“Serves you right for perving out on the mark.” Gibson replied with a satisfied smile.

“What do you mean ‘the mark’?” Blake said, confused, as he settled back into his seat, “we’re on a surveillance op., not a hit.”

“Of course, it’s not a hit, moron,” Gibson replied, “you surveil a mark for intelligence, and you mark a target for death. Who let you out of the academy early?”

“Ok, whatever.” Blake said dismissively.

“So, are you gonna call it in, or would you rather ogle the mark some more?”

“Fine, fine.” Blake said as he activated a secure link, “Big-brother, big-brother, this is watchdog-two-zero, Agents Blake and Gibson checking in.”

“Roger, watchdog-two-zero, big-brother reads you,” a gruff voice replied.

“Big-brother, the…mark arrived by sky-taxi just now with her four kids,” Blake reported, “but she took a detour on her back way from work.”

“Affirmative, watchdog-two-zero,” their handler replied, “The kids were scheduled for a series of medical tests today.”

“Understood, big-brother, but the mark never went to the medical centre,” Agent Blake explained, “she went to a residential address on the 201^st floor of the Elysium Tower, stayed there for a few minutes, then picked up the kids from there.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line.

“Big-brother, come in?”

“Watchdog-two-zero, that address is registered to a certain Jezebel Thorn,” the handler explained, “she is also an active surveillance mark. Please immediately forward all signals intelligence collected from the exchange.”

“Uh, that’s a negative, big-brother,” Agent Blake answered, “the entire 201^st floor was equipped with garblers; no usable SIGINT data could be gathered.”

“Understood, watchdog-two-zero,” the handler replied.

“Big-brother, Jezebel Thorn is the kids’ grandmother, confirm?” Agent Blake asked.

“Affirmative, watchdog-two-zero.” Big-brother answered, “But your hunch about it being just a family visit is unlikely.”

“Big-brother, please clarify.”

“The Thorn children were being examined by Directorate medical staff,” the handler explained, “only two people are authorised to drop them off and collect them afterwards. Even though she’s a blood relative, Jezebel Thorn isn’t one of them.”

“Understood, big-brother.” Said Blake, then he turned to Gibson and wondered aloud, “why the hell would DNI docs be examining these kids?”

“Irrelevant and above your pay-grade,” their handler replied brusquely, “mine as well.”

“Uh, understood, big-brother,” Blake hastily recomposed himself as Gibson smirked quietly, “big-brother, the Thorn family is home for the night. We’re recommending a snatch op. to question the mother.”

“Acknowledged, watchdog-two-zero,” their handler replied, “standby.”

The green comm. light turned yellow as the connection was put on hold.

“Somebody’s scalp’s gonna get nailed to Red-eye’s office wall.” Gibson remarked.

“What the fleek for?” Blake asked.

“The only reason they’d have DNI doctors examining those kids is if they have a parent in the DNI,” Gibson explained, “and pretty high up too.”

“Which means that anyone other than the parents picking them up from the medical centre is a major security failure.” Concluded Blake.

“Not as dumb as you pretend to be.” Gibson replied as he pulled up Aster Thorn’s personnel file and tapped on her spouse’s name.

“Gabriel Thorn…oh, look,” Gibson noted, “‘Access Denied: Tier 2 classification’.”

“So, that’s pretty high up?” Blake asked.

“Tier 1 classification would mean only the director-general and the Masterminds can look at the file.” Gibson explained, “And, by the way, the mere fact that I just tried to look up his information will have been logged by the DNI techs.”

“Doesn’t Red-eye trust her own spies?” Blake asked, miffed.

“Of course not,” Gibson answered, “we spy on people for a living.”

The yellow standby light turned green as their handler re-established the connection.

“Watchdog-two-zero, watchdog-two-zero, come in.” their handler hailed them.

“Big-brother, this is watchdog-two-zero,” Blake responded, “We read you.”

“Watchdog-two-zero, that is a negative on your recommendation for a snatch op.,” their handler informed them, “repeat, negative on a snatch op. The mark herself hasn’t done anything overtly suspicious yet. Until she does, continue observation.”

“Understood, big-brother,” Blake acknowledged, “over and out.”

* * *

Five…two…one…three…three. Sure enough, the elevator doors slid open, and the squad filed in. There were only two levels: laboratories and excavation site. Gabriel pressed the button for the excavation site and the doors sealed shut.

There was total silence all the way down. No one knew what they would find or if they would live to report back; not to mention one of their number was now probably a guinea pig for the insane staff. Critically injured though he was, Doran might be the lucky one.

Gabriel felt nothing in particular. That was normal. Voidstalkers weren’t supposed to feel anything in particular. He had made his peace with Ogilvy’s probable demise and Doran’s incapacitation, but he could sense that his remaining squad members were wary about continuing any further. Not that they were cowards – far from it – but they had more of a sense of self-preservation than he did. That was Human.

The elevator finally reached the bottom. The doors slid open and the squad emerged into a cave hewn from the rock. Floodlights were bolted to the ceiling and storage crates were stacked around the walls. High up on the rock wall opposite, painted in Human blood, were the words: ‘TEMPLE OF KNOWLEDGE’.

Directly below the message was a dark tunnel entrance, like a breach in the cave wall leading into a black abyss. Shining a light into the hole revealed a passageway whose walls and surfaces resembled pitch-black basalt with a smooth finish and precise angles.

“This cave is not a natural formation.” Cato remarked.

“I would never have guessed.” Gabriel replied sarcastically, eliciting chuckles.

Their levity was tempered by the ominous nature of the path ahead. The light-eating tunnel before them resembled the entrance to an alien tomb or a gateway to the underworld. Natural or not, it looked like a trap, especially given the hideous showpiece on display.

There were four corpses, two on each side of the tunnel entrance, mounted on pikes with their arms tied to crossbeams like crucified scarecrows. They had been savagely mutilated, either through sadistic torture or ineptly performed surgery – or both – with bloody maws in their torsos and dried blood caking their cheeks beneath their closed eyelids.

All four of the crucified corpses sported the remains of J.E. Co. security uniforms.

“At least now we know what ‘elevation’ means.” Bale remarked grimly.

“What the fuck kind of savages do this to people?” Cato wondered rhetorically.

No one cared to guess, especially since they were probably going to find out soon.

“Look at this.” Viker called out, holding up a heavy belt with a large activation button in the buckle. There was a whole crate full of them sitting largely untouched in the corner.

“Gravity belts?” Bale asked in bewilderment, “underground?”

“Gravitational anomalies inside the structure, perhaps?” Viker surmised, “This is definitely the weirdest op. I’ve ever been on.”

“If the research staff felt they needed them to go any further, we probably do too.” Gabriel concluded, “Everybody grab a belt.”

The squad complied and Viker passed out a gravity belt to each person before wrapping one around his own waist and tightening the buckle.

“Do we have a plan beyond ‘kill anything that moves’, sir?” Cato asked apprehensively.

“Not really, but we are going to finish this quickly,” Gabriel answered resolutely, “the schematics for the ‘temple’ feature a central chamber of some kind. We find the chamber, destroy whatever’s causing the insanity, and kill everything that gets in our way.”

“It can’t possibly be that simple.” Cato said with reservations.

“It never is.” Gabriel replied, knowing from experience how right Cato was.

With Gabriel taking point, the squad approached the tunnel entrance step by cautious step, walking past the macabre display. Gabriel stepped over the threshold and planted his foot on the smooth floor. As his armoured boot connected with the floor he felt a tiny tremor reverberate in his sole, like a wave of vibrations rippling outwards from his foot.

Of course it was a trap.

A chorus of mechanical shrieking erupted from the crucified ‘corpses’. The scarecrow-like monstrosities began to thrash in their restraints, shaking the pikes from side to side as they struggled to be free. Their eyelids were open, revealing that their eyes had been replaced with cybernetic implants which glowed electric blue. They backed away from the passageway and grouped together with their backs to the elevator.

“Weapons free!” Gabriel shouted.

The squad opened fire on the mutilated monstrosities; but to their surprise, their bullets were deflected to the sides in flashes of energy. The research staff had surgically implanted shield generators inside the scarecrows’ bodies – an innovation both twisted and ingenious – protecting the creatures from small arms fire.

The scarecrows broke free of their restraints and dropped down to the ground, landing deftly on their feet. One of them picked up the giant pike on which it had been crucified and hurled it like a javelin at the squad. The 12 foot long scaffolding rod travelled slowly enough to pass through Viker’s shields whilst connecting with his stomach with enough force to knock him backwards. But it rebounded from his armour and fell harmlessly to the ground, the sharpened tip blunted to a stub without leaving a scratch.

Bale and Cato covered Viker as he got back on his feet, overwhelming the scarecrow’s shields at point-blank range with concentrated fire to the head. The second scarecrow took a running jump at Gabriel, arms spread out as if it could fly. Gabriel readied a concussive shot and fell onto his back as the semi-machine monstrosity pounced at him, lining the barrel up with the incoming creature’s mouth and pulling the trigger.

The concussive shot was a shower of ball-bearings sprayed at the target for maximum impact force rather than penetration – no good at range, but lethal up-close. The shot entered through the scarecrow’s howling maw, blasting out the back of its head. Gabriel tossed the half-headed corpse to one side and returned to his feet.

The third and fourth cybernetic scarecrows had attempted the same airborne pounce. One landed on top of Viker, grabbing him by the shoulders. Viker deftly planted his foot on his incoming opponent and performed a reverse roll, using the cybernetic zombie’s own momentum to flip it head over heels onto its own back. Viker then leapt back to his feet and executed the scarecrow with a single shot to the head.

Bale was slower to react as the fourth scarecrow tackled him to the ground and began pummelling and clawing at his helmet like a rabid beast. Cato grabbed the scarecrow by the ankles and yanked it backwards onto its stomach, then knelt down on its back, grabbed it by the head and chin, and snapped its neck 180 degrees around.

With its head facing backwards, the surgically-enhanced scarecrow screamed at Cato, treating him to the revolting view of a face that was both half-rotted and mechanically enhanced. The scarecrow smacked Cato in the head, knocking him down before trying to climb on top of him. Bale charged forwards and struck the creature under the chin with the butt of his gun, sending it flying backwards before following up with a kill shot through the skull.

More shots rang out, this time from the passage entrance. Flashes of gunfire illuminated the darkened passageway as more enemies joined the fight. Several stray shots hit the squad’s shields as they took cover on either side of the entrance, returning fire into the passageway.

The squad switched their HUD filters to false-colour thermal enhancement, turning the walls of the pitch black passageway to a cool shade of blue with computer generated contouring superimposed over the edges and angles. Highlighted in red were several hostile silhouettes, shooting at them from the cover of the passageway.

Viker removed a frag grenade from his belt, primed it, and tossed it down the corridor. It bounced off the walls and exploded in mid-air, spraying hypersonic shards in all directions and shredding the targets’ comparatively light body armour. The squad followed up with kill bursts before the survivors could recover.

“Forward!” Gabriel ordered, “If we keep moving, they can’t pin us down!”

The squad followed Gabriel into the passageway as more defenders appeared. Viker raised his hand and activated the wrist-shield he had taken earlier. The oval-shaped energy shield appeared as distortion in the false colour enhancement filters; but it easily deflected the incoming gunfire as the squad returned fire, dispatching the defenders with ease.

Viker took point and led the squad down the right hand fork of the corridor with Gabriel beside him, while Cato and Bale covered the rear. The squad followed the spyware’s map through an otherwise bewildering maze of corridors and cube-shaped chambers, all of which looked identical and engineered to mathematical precision.

More familiar was the blood-red graffiti on the walls and floors – and even some on the ceilings. In addition to scientific equations and passages of alien script, there were more of the same pseudo-religious scribblings they had seen earlier.

‘PEACE THROUGH SUBMISSION.’

‘THE VOICE SPEAKS TRUTH.’

There was no time to wonder at the distinctly alien architecture, or messages painted on almost every surface, as the squad entered yet another chamber and were promptly fired upon by entrenched defenders.

The squad rolled into cover behind a set of equipment crates as a hailstorm of bullets greeted them, punching shallow holes in the crates or glancing off the metal edges with audible pings. Many of the bullets struck the opposite wall – not one of them leaving a discernible mark on the alien material – before clattering to the floor.

High speed motion capture software in Gabriel’s HUD allowed him to see the bullets’ trajectories as thin red streaks in his visor, some of which were coming down at them at an angle. Gabriel returned fire, aiming for the square-shaped spaces at the top of the opposite wall; the spray of bullets he fired ricocheted off the roof and silenced the intended targets.

The suppressing fire continued from behind makeshift barricades on the other side. Viker stepped out from behind the crates to confront them with wrist-shield raised. The gunfire was redirected towards Viker, bursts of bullets zeroing in on him before swerving abruptly sideways as they came into contact with the wrist-shield.

Cato returned fire from the cover of Viker’s wrist-shield to distract the defenders while Gabriel and Bale snuck around the side. Bale removed an explosive from his belt, primed it, and tossed it at the enemy with a flick of his wrist. The device travelled through the air in an arc, spinning at high speed like a gyro-ball before detonating behind the defenders.

The explosive core flash-heated an outer layer of gas into an ionised state, discharging it in the form of an arc of plasma which overwhelmed the defenders’ shielding and ate straight through their armour and flesh. The squad could imagine – even though they couldn’t hear – the dying screams of the defenders as they were scorched to death by the superhot plasma.

The squad didn’t pause for a moment. They continued through the alien labyrinth, and were ambushed repeatedly by waves of lightly armed, by highly determined defenders. Of course, the fighters were no match for commandoes, and they were steadily beaten back.

“Just how big is this place?” Viker wondered in exasperation as the squad walked down yet another perpendicular passageway.

“One central chamber, eighty sub-chambers, and 264 connecting corridors,” Bale answered, “according to the map, at least.”

“Speaking of which, what kind of fricking place is this?” Viker continued.

“Your guess is as good as any of ours.” Bale replied.

Cato pressed his hand against the wall so that his suit sensors could scan the material.

“It’s a metallic substance of some kind. Composition, unknown. Faint but uniform traces of energy beneath the surface.” Cato announced mysteriously, “Definitely alien.”

“We’re here.” Gabriel announced, leading the way to the end of the corridor.

Unlike the maze of identical, cube-shaped sub-chambers they had passed through, the central chamber was a perfect sphere the size of a small stadium, with a disorienting lack of visible angles. Extensive scaffolding encircled the rim of the chamber, extending down for several levels, resembling an archaeological site at a geometrician’s tomb.

At the centre of the enormous chamber was a single glowing light, floating in mid-air in the centre, and illuminating the enormous chamber with an unearthly glow. Bale, Cato, and Viker stared at the light like moths entranced by a flame.

“Keep an eye out for hostiles.” Gabriel ordered, snapping them out of their awe.

Cautiously, the squad ventured into the chamber, descending a ramp onto the topmost level of the scaffolding. On the other side of the scaffolding, a short distance from the light, was a raised dais, like a jumping board from which to leap towards the light…or perhaps an altar from which to worship it. As they approached, the squad could see that the light was actually a faintly glowing sphere of translucent energy with a silver orb suspended at its heart.

Atop the platform, a lone figure stood with his back turned to the squad. He was wearing what looked like snow white hazmat overalls, but which had been covered entirely in dark red symbols, like the macabre scribblings in the main facility.

“Finally, you have come.” The figure proclaimed, turning around to face them.

He had the look of a mad scientist who had spent years in the wilderness, complete with a full beard and untamed, greying hair; and his skin was covered in what looked like microdots which glowed faintly under the dim light. The squad saw another figure on his knees with the speaker’s hand on his shoulder.

It was Ogilvy.

“Ogilvy, status!” Gabriel shouted through his helmet speakers.

“He cannot hear you,” The figure spoke with a mocking grin, “the Voice instructed us on how to cut through his armour and disable its systems.”

Ogilvy’s helmet had been carefully removed, revealing closed eyes and features that looked weighed down by exhaustion, and a gravity belt had been strapped around his waist. Although he didn’t look injured, he was clearly out of the fight.

“Who are you?” Gabriel demanded.

“I am the Leader of the Faithful,” the figure replied grandiosely, “the Slave of the Voice. The Prophet to whom the Voice’s knowledge was first revealed.”

“Is the Voice that thing in the containment shield?” Gabriel asked.

“It is the physical vessel of the Voice.” The prophet replied, looking back at the silver orb, “We thought it to be merely a xenotech artefact, albeit one ancient beyond compare, even more ancient than the place in which it has been imprisoned. But none dared approach to study it. None, that is, save for me.”

“So, you’re responsible for this madness?”

“Madness?” the prophet said with a grin, “I was mad before the Voice spoke unto me. Now, I have been cured of the madness and ignorance that plagued my mind, just as I have cured all those who now follow me.”

The squad’s motion trackers flashed red.

“Contacts!” Bale yelled, “And lots of them!”

All around the enormous central chamber, figures began to appear. More disorienting were the figures who appeared directly above, spilling out onto the ceiling as if defying gravity. The squad spread out to cover as many angles as they could, but it was impossible. The enemy was all around, oozing out of every entrance and blocking every avenue of escape.

“The Faithful are numerous,” the prophet gloated, “you cannot hope to kill them all.”

He was right. They were exposed, outnumbered, outgunned, and surrounded on all sides. Not only that, but the enemy had cannibalised xenotechnology for much of its weaponry, making it vastly superior to what they had.

“We have attained peace through submission,” the prophet declared, “and so shall you.”

With those words, he shoved Ogilvy over the edge of the platform. Instead of falling, the unconscious Ogilvy was borne aloft by some kind of gravity field and drawn, spread-eagled, up towards the spherical containment field.

Gabriel opened fire on the prophet, but the microdots all over his skin lit up in response. Gabriel’s bullets rebounded in a series of sapphire-coloured energy flashes, leaving the target unharmed and grinning triumphantly at his invulnerability.

“Subdermal shield emitters,” the prophet explained, “the knowledge required for their manufacture is one of innumerable gifts bestowed upon us by the Voice. You cannot hope to slay me, for I am its messenger.”

Ogilvy was pulled inside the containment shield. The prophet and his followers watched in awe – and the squad in horror – as the silver orb disintegrated into a cloud of particles which swarmed in through Ogilvy’s mouth. As the cloud of particles took over Ogilvy’s body, the containment shield suddenly dissipated, repelling Ogilvy back towards the platform.

The squad trained their weapons on their squad-mate as an invisible force carried him back towards the platform, where he landed on one knee. Gabriel primed a high-powered shot; whatever had happened to Ogilvy, he was better off dead. The colour had drained completely from his skin, and his eyes were shut as he rose slowly to his feet.

When they opened again, it was clear that Ogilvy was gone.

His eyes were now jet black as he focused his gaze on the squad. He opened his mouth, and from it poured forth the multitude of silver particles that had taken over his body. They swarmed around him, enveloping him entirely like a shimmering cloud of miniature locusts. Gabriel took aim at the possessed Ogilvy’s exposed head and fired.

The high-powered shot was fired at high-hypersonic velocity, giving it enough power to punch through vehicle armour. But the swarm of particles around Ogilvy’s body generated their own shield around him, and the bullet was violently slapped aside. The possessed Ogilvy began to walk towards them, each footstep punctuated by an ominous, echoing thump.

“Colonel, I seriously fricking hope you’re not out of ideas, yet.” Viker spoke for the remainder of the squad, a note of panic creeping into his voice.

“Steady.” Gabriel replied calmly, removing a grenade from his belt and primed it.

He felt anything but calm.

The possessed Ogilvy and this so-called prophet were impervious to their weapons, and intended to kill them or worse. The chances that they would all die in this xenoarchaeological madhouse were growing by the second. If they stood and fought, their possessed former squad mate would make short work of them. But if they retreated the way they had come, they would be caught between the possessed Ogilvy and the ‘Faithful’, and be finished off anyway.

Gabriel glanced up and saw that even the ‘ceiling’ of the chamber was swarming with the Faithful – standing upside down relative to where he stood. If every wall and surface had artificial gravity which varied in different parts of the complex, that would explain why the researchers had brought along gravity belts.

An idea formed in Gabriel’s mind.

“Sir?” Cato’s barely suppressed panic was evident in his voice.

“Follow my lead and jump on my mark.” Gabriel ordered.

He angled his arm to throw the grenade as the possessed Ogilvy got closer and closer.

“Sir!”

“Go!” Gabriel shouted, bolting to the right as he tossed the grenade at Ogilvy’s feet, who walked unheedingly forward just as it detonated.

The explosive wave of flash-heated plasma melted straight through the floor at Ogilvy’s feet. It wasn’t powerful enough to shake the structure of the scaffolding, but it did generate enough force to knock Ogilvy backwards. The possessed commando let out a bloodcurdling scream as he fell down, even as the swarm of alien particles protected him from harm.

The squad followed Gabriel’s lead and sprinted right.

“Grav-belts!” Gabriel shouted as he leapt off the far edge of the scaffolding, hitting the activation button on his gravity belt as he jumped.

Gabriel felt his innards being pulled straight down as the gravitational pull suddenly changed direction. Without the gravity belts, the squad could have run along the entire circumference of the spherical chamber without falling off; but although the chamber’s artificial gravity was cancelled out by the gravity belts, the effect wasn’t powerful enough to counteract the moon’s own gravity.

That was the idea.

Instead of falling flat against the wall, Gabriel and the squad hit the side and kept on falling, sliding towards the bottom at high speed like water circling a drain, towards a quartet of square openings at the bottom. The Faithful below opened fire, and Gabriel and the squad fired back. Hitting moving targets was hard, especially when you were the one moving, but several shots still hit their marks, and the Faithful scattered as they took casualties.

“That’s our way out!” Gabriel yelled, pointing to the square openings, “go!”

Given the topsy-turvy geometry of this place, each opening was probably another corridor leading to a sub-chamber below; and so plunging back into the labyrinth was the squad’s best way out. As they slid towards the bottom of the chamber, the squad used their momentum to slide back to their feet.

Several jumpers drew their deadly, armour-cutting swords, and tried to close the gap before the squad could make their escape. Viker dropped one with a concussive shot to the chest, sending it flying backwards and ‘up’ the side. Bale performed a forward roll, evading the otherwise decapitating swipe of another sword, and rolled straight into the hole, followed by Cato, Viker, and Gabriel.

As they fell, the squad kept enough of their wits about them to hit the buttons on their gravity belts, deactivating the gravity cancelling effect. Gravity’s direction shifted abruptly by 90 degrees, pulling the squad members down towards the ‘floor’ of the corridor instead of continuing to fall straight down into the next chamber.

As the squad recovered their orientation, the remaining fighters leaned over the edge and kept shooting down at them. From the squad’s perspective, the shots were travelling horizontally, even though the sub-chamber ‘behind’ them was actually below them. When they returned fire and kill one of the attackers, the body fell down only to hit the ‘floor’ – or the wall – of the corridor.

The multidirectional gravity would certainly make the fight more interesting.

“Straight down!” Gabriel ordered, activating his gravity belt again.

Gravity abruptly reoriented by 90 degrees again, and Gabriel fell off the ‘floor’ and straight down, kicking back and forth against the walls of the vertical corridor to slow his descent. The rest of the squad followed his lead, reactivating their belts and dropping like stones down into the chamber below, where they landed more or less on their feet.

“New plan, sir?” Bale asked.

“We keep moving,” Gabriel replied, “or we die.”