Voidstalker

THE WIDOW

Out of the frying pan and into the firefight. That was the last thought that passed through Gabriel’s mind as he leapt into the escape hole. As soon as he jumped, he felt a powerful force yank his body straight downwards. The instantaneous acceleration was disorienting, but not nearly as disorienting as the insane journey that followed.

The walls of the tunnel dissolved into an imperceptible blur as the gravity field carried Gabriel along at incredible speeds, like one of those theme park rides that carried revellers along a winding tunnel before depositing them into a pool of water. Except that he was hurtling along ten times as fast, and whatever was waiting at the other end wanted to kill him.

The tunnel didn’t travel in a straight line either; it twisted, turned, and corkscrewed seemingly at random as it carried Gabriel along at breakneck speeds, making him feel that he might be dashed against the side of the tunnel. The most he could do was hug his weapon close, keep his feet together, and hope that didn’t happen.

Strangest of all was the sound, or lack thereof. The air resistance in the gravity tunnel ought to be a deafening roar; but to prevent hearing damage, the auditory software in Gabriel’s helmet artificially reduced the volume of loud noises or filtered them out altogether.

It was eerily silent all the way down – or up, rather.

A faint light appeared at the end of the tunnel before rushing up to meet Gabriel. As he shot out of the tunnel at high speed, he felt his innards decelerate dramatically as the sudden change in gravity slowed his descent to a safe speed. The rest of the squad was already there, recovering as best they could from the trip.

“That was…not bad!” Viker hyperventilated.

“Sit-rep!” Gabriel replied, deadly serious.

“No threats detected,” Bale replied, “but that’ll probably change soon.”

They were standing on the ceiling of a hemispherical hall identical to the chamber from which they had just escaped. Unlike the previous chamber, however, this one was totally bare, with no storage crates, weapons caches or research equipment to be seen.

Without warning, the chamber’s column began to extend from its slot in the ceiling directly beneath Gabriel’s feet. He stepped off the moving column just in time to avoid falling back into the tunnel as the column slid inside, sealing off the entrance to the gravity tunnel; but he was removed from the artificial gravity field keeping him on the ceiling and tumbled down to the floor, landing on one foot and falling awkwardly onto his side.

“You alright, sir?” Cato asked.

“I’m fine.” Gabriel replied, climbing back to his feet, “it seems the observer is trying to help us. Join me down here and we can get this over with.”

Rather than activating their gravity belts, the squad jumped ‘up’ towards the floor, leaving the gravity field keeping them on the ceiling and landing more or less on their feet.

“Cato, check the column for the number of slots we need to fill.” Gabriel ordered, “Everybody else, fan out and look for the blocks.”

“Found one!” Viker announced, holding up a block discarded on the floor.

“Found a slot too!” Cato announced.

“Two slots?” Viker asked.

“No, I mean I found a slot as well.” Cato clarified.

“Whatever.” Viker said dismissively, “Just catch.”

Viker tossed the jet black block to Cato who caught it deftly and inserted it into the corresponding aperture at the base of the column.

As the block slid home, the intricate network of circuitry on the plain black column was illuminated as the machine was restored to power – or to life, they didn’t know anything about the technology they were bringing back online.

“RESTORED.” Boomed the observer’s voice.

“Are your systems back online?” Viker asked.

“Correct.” The observer replied, “That is what the word ‘restored’ means.”

“Fricking smug xeno-computer,” Viker muttered in annoyance.

“I’m sure it didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Viker.” Bale joked.

“The observer finds your propensity for private communication amongst yourselves most curious.” The observer observed without actually sounding curious at all.

“We need you to put up those barriers before the Faithful can get in!” Gabriel shouted.

“Unnecessary.” The observer replied, “The Enthralled’s pursuit attempts have left them concentrated around the chamber from which you arrived, at the exact opposite end of the observatory from your current location. Even if they knew your location, it would require a considerable amount of time to reach you.”

“What about the Swarm,” Cato asked, “can it reach us via the same path?”

“No.” the observer reassured them, “the observer sealed the entrance to the gravitic transport network as soon as the voidstalker embarked. It cannot follow.”

“Good, so the sooner we get to the other four chambers, the better.”

“Correct.” The observer confirmed, “It would be most efficient for the four of you to split up, one individual per chamber.”

The squad collectively flinched.

“No fricking way we’re splitting up.” Viker said over the comm.

“If you harbour reservations, voice them aloud.” The observer demanded.

“We’re not splitting up.” Gabriel replied.

“Clarify your reasoning.” The observer commanded.

“Four guns are better than one in a firefight.” Gabriel explained, “We’re not dividing our strength just to save time on the task.”

“The voidstalker wishes to prioritise the concentration of meagre firepower over time-efficient completion of the task at hand?” the observer enquired.

“Correct.” Gabriel answered emphatically, “I don’t care if it takes us four times as long to get you back online; we’re not splitting up.”

There was a moment of silence.

“Understood.” The observer noted.

The glowing circuitry on the newly restored central column went black, and the column receded back into the ceiling, reopening the entrance to the gravitic transport network.

“Please enter the gravitic tunnel,” the observer requested, “the observer will transport you to one of the remaining four chambers.”

“You know the drill!” Gabriel said.

* * *

It was a relatively brief ride on the train back home, but it felt like forever. Aster spent the entire journey feeling totally crushed. There were no goodbyes or reassuring explanations for why she was being suspended – her colleagues and subordinates would be informed of her ‘period of leave’ by email – just the deauthorisation of her security clearance, the collection of her smartphone from storage, and an elevator ride down to the station.

If she hadn’t broken into Lawrence’s office and snooped around in the first place, none of this would have happened. No red chip. No blackmail. No cloak-and-dagger scheming. No cloud of suspicion hanging over her head. No potentially career-ending suspension. The events of the past day or so were ultimately her fault.

By the time she got to the apartment door, she was fighting back tears.

The biometric sensor flash-scanned her teary eyes and Aster hurried inside, slamming the door shut behind her. She ignored the maganiel android standing guard in the hallway and headed straight for the master bedroom, closing the door behind her more gently this time before flopping down on the bed in despair.

It felt useless to cry about what had happened, let alone wallow in self-pity over a partly self-inflicted predicament. She’d only been suspended from work, after all; and unlike the poor souls at the Loki facility, she was still alive.

Rolling over to stare at the ceiling, Aster felt the tears roll down past her ears. She couldn’t help but wallow in self-pity; self-pity was all she could manage right now. Having unearthed more questions than answers, her stupid hunt for the truth was now effectively over. That ought to be a huge relief, but it wasn’t.

There was a little knock on the door.

“…Yes?” Aster called, hastily composing herself.

The door opened a crack and Orion peeked in, his younger siblings visible behind him.

“Hey, sweethearts.” Aster smiled at them, hoping her eyes didn’t look too red.

“Hi mommy.” Orion replied with a weak smile, he could see his mother’s teary eyes.

“Come in, sit down.” Aster beckoned them to come inside.

Orion opened the door a little wider and walked in clutching his tablet computer, followed by Rose and Violet. Together they climbed onto the bed and sat down.

“Leo’s still sleeping.” Violet said.

“That’s ok, let him sleep.” Aster replied, “So what did you learn today?”

“Ionic and covalent bonds in chemistry, algebraic long division, and how to construct while loops in a program.” Orion replied, playing with his tablet computer.

“Are you understanding it ok?” Aster asked her oldest child.

“Mostly.” He replied.

“We also had an essay on the history of space exploration.” Rose added.

“I’m sure you did great.” Aster reassured them with a hug.

“How was your day, mommy?” Violet asked.

“Tough.” She replied, a gross understatement, but truthful enough.

“Are we going to see Grandma again?” Orion asked.

“Not any time soon.” Aster replied, “Why?”

“You don’t seem to like her very much.” He noted astutely.

“What makes you think that?” Aster asked, embarrassed that her children had noticed. Orion went silent and started staring at his feet.

“Nothing.” He said sheepishly.

“Ori recorded you talking.” Rose blurted out. Orion flinched in embarrassment and jabbed his sister’s shoulder in retaliation.

“Hey! Don’t do that your sister.” Aster remonstrated.

“But she told on me!” Orion protested.

“But it’s true!” Rose counter-protested.

“Apologise to your sister, now!” Aster snapped.

“…Sorry.” Orion mumbled half-heartedly.

“Now what’s this about a recording?” Aster asked, her curiosity piqued.

Orion frowned self-consciously; then with great reluctance, he pulled up an audio file on his tablet and pressed the play button.

“…By asking me here, you’re guilty of conspiracy to commit corporate espionage.” Aster’s own voice played over the speaker.

“And by coming, you’re officially complicit.” Grandma Jezebel’s voice played in response, “unless, of course, the real reason – the one you’d like me to corroborate if the investigators ask – is that you simply came to–”

Orion paused the recording, embarrassed that his snooping had been found out. Aster was stunned. Not by the recording itself, but by what a stroke of luck this was.

“How much of my conversation with Grandma did you record?” she asked Orion.

“All of it,” Orion replied sheepishly, “from when you walked in to when we got in the taxi. If you want, I can delete it–”

“No! Don’t do that. Actually, could mommy borrow your tablet for just a minute?”

Orion nodded and handed over his tablet. Aster went over to the armoured closet where the maganiel was usually kept, and the children quietly left to give her some privacy.

Aster slid her thumb across the access pad. The light went from red to green and the doors of the maganiel’s armoured closet opened. The maganiel was still standing guard in the hallway, but there was a little side compartment next to its alcove containing an electronic screen and a communications box. It was labelled: “EMERGENCY USE ONLY”.

“Pretty sure this qualifies.” Aster muttered as she activated the device.

“Please state your emergency.” The box demanded.

“Someone attempted to blackmail me into committing corporate espionage, potentially involving xenotechnology.” Aster replied to the box.

“Do you have evidence for that?”

Aster placed Orion’s tablet on top of the comm. box’s interface pad, established a wireless connection, and uploaded the audio file.

“File received,” the box replied, “standby.”

Aster heaved a sigh, though not of relief. She had now ratted on Jezebel Thorn and indirectly ratted on her bosses, thereby officially violating her employment contract. She would never have dared to do so without proof, which had been the whole point of trying to pull that bait-and-switch with the data chips in the first place. Now that it was done, she had to trust that the DNI would believe what they heard on the file.

Still, there was something tremendously satisfying about sticking it to her sleazy bitch of a mother-in-law. The kind of woman who would use members of her own family, including her own grandchildren, to further her own goals. Perhaps that shouldn’t be surprising for a vulture capitalist who’d gone into business after being mysteriously widowed.

* * *

The sudden change in gravity and the sensation of having one’s guts yanked downwards were no less disorienting the second time around. The walls became a high speed blur and the roaring of the air in the gravitic tunnel was reduced to an imperceptible din as the auditory sensors filtered out the otherwise deafening noise.

Gabriel hugged his weapon close and kept his feet together as he hurtled along the tunnel at breakneck speeds before veering suddenly to one side. The tunnel was uncomfortably narrow, wide enough for two or three people to stand shoulder-to-shoulder, but narrow enough to worry about hitting the side at such speeds.

A light appeared at the end of the tunnel and in a split second it rushed up to meet Gabriel. He re-emerged, just like before, on the ceiling of another hemispherical chamber. The sudden deceleration yanking his innards upwards as the gravity field dramatically slowed his descent, landing him squarely on his feet.

Standing upside down on the ceiling, the retracted column beneath Gabriel’s feet protruded from its slot again to reseal the tunnel entrance. Gabriel jumped to one side to avoid being pushed back into the tunnel, and the change in gravity carried him down to the floor. This time, he was able to twist his body in mid-air and land squarely on his feet again.

Gabriel looked around the chamber with his weapon at the ready, scanning for threats. But there were no targets to be seen; in fact, he was the only person present. Viker, Cato, and Bale had all jumped into the gravitic tunnel before him and should be here already. So why weren’t they here?

“Squad, sound off!” Gabriel ordered them.

There was no response. In fact, his squad members’ comm. signals weren’t showing up in his HUD at all, and neither were their tracking signals or bio-readings. It was as if the three of them had completely vanished.

“Viker! Bale! Cato!” Gabriel shouted, “Someone, respond!”

Silence.

Gabriel felt a surge of anger in his chest. They had been tricked; he wanted to shout and rage at the observer for its duplicity in splitting them up and still expecting them to help restore the columns. And for what? It wasn’t even clear why the observer needed them restored.

As logic began to encroach on his anger, Gabriel acknowledged that, whatever the truth of the matter, the observer couldn’t – or wouldn’t – respond until the blocks were restored to their appropriate sockets. Once they were, he could demand answers.

Gabriel looked around the chamber and found that he was in a makeshift armoury. Racks of armour and weapons lined the walls as well as jump-packs, spare gravity belts, and all manner of other military-grade equipment, most of it non-standard.

More interestingly, the chamber was dominated by a 3-D fabrication module that towered over everything else. 3-D fabricators were very difficult to design or build from scratch, and those capable of manufacturing weapons were illegal. For all their insanity and barbaric experimentation, Gabriel couldn’t help but be impressed by this enemy’s resourcefulness, even if that ‘resourcefulness’ had come from knowledge imparted by the Swarm.

There was also a large, semi-automated workbench with a half-assembled submachine gun and its components lying discarded on top. Stacked to one side were a pair of black oblong blocks, the very items for which he was searching. Gabriel stowed his weapon and picked up the two blocks, one in each hand.

His motion tracker flashed red.

Without thinking, Gabriel dropped the blocks and drew his weapon again as he spun around to face the threat, just in time to squeeze off a few rounds. The target’s shielding rippled and flashed as it slapped aside the few bullets that he managed to fire; then she extended a hand in a ‘stop’ gesture, causing a circular pattern on her palm to light up.

Gabriel felt an invisible force grab him and hoist him into the air, yanking his limbs out into an X shape. He was helpless. His shielding was still active, but the force holding him in mid-air felt far more intense than the gravitic tunnel, like being restrained by a dozen invisible hands. He still had his gun, but it felt far too heavy to move.

Gabriel had seen this kind of technology before, but it was often too large for a single user to carry. That the Faithful had managed to shrink the technology down to the size of a glove was genuinely impressive. Not that being impressed helped him much.

His captor was a lithe female figure in a jet black suit of combat armour with a bulbous black helmet and a featureless visor. She looked like the mysterious figure who had opened up the door to the labs for them earlier; the one the squad had decided to designate as the ‘black widow’ – it might even be the same person.

She curled her fingers, and Gabriel felt the gravitic force pull him in until he was face-to-face with his captor. Holding him in place directly above her with one hand, she slid her free hand across the side of her helmet, causing the visor to retract and reveal her face.

Her face was Human, devoid of androgenising cybernetics or other modifications. Her skin had a living hue without the corpselike complexion of the monsters in the Faithful’s ranks. Her eyes were icy blue and her hair was raven black. She was disarmingly attractive, a strange observation to make about a lethal foe. Black widow was the right designation.

“Why are you trying to restore the Temple?” the black widow asked.

“It’s not a temple.” Gabriel pointed out dryly, talking through his helmet speakers.

The black widow smiled – or was it a snarl?

“The only way of knowing about the totems and the keys is through enlightenment by the Voice,” the black widow looked at him with an icy stare, “But you haven’t been enlightened, so why are you attempting to restore the Swarm’s prison?”

“I like puzzle games.” Gabriel answered sarcastically.

The black widow used her gravity glove to pull Gabriel in even closer until they were almost close enough to kiss. Those piercing blue eyes seemed to stare straight through his visor and into his own, and part of him couldn't help but stare back.

Gabriel felt a strange ripple of emotion run through his chest.

“I’ll kill you if you don’t answer.” The black widow said in a gentle tone.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Gabriel replied.

The black widow thrust her hand back out again, and the action threw Gabriel violently upwards. He hit the ceiling with such force that it triggered his shielding, and the resulting repulsion sent him into an awkward spin on the way back down. The black widow’s control over him was broken, and in mid-fall he hit the activation button on his gravity belt.

The chamber was actually oriented sideways relative to the moon, and so the moon’s gravity caused him to dramatically change direction in mid-fall by 90 degrees, causing him to land on what was technically the wall.

Gabriel landed on his back and opened fire, but the black widow had resealed her helmet and her shields easily swatted his bullets aside. How could a figure that thin have shields that powerful? Thanks to his belt, Gabriel was safe from her gravity glove, but he would need a different weapon to kill her.

But the black widow didn’t give him time to re-arm. She swerved and danced as he continued shooting, as if pure agility were enough to defy his bullets. As she bolted back and forth with preternatural speed, she drew a tactical baton from behind her waist, flicking a switch which caused the tip to glow electric blue.

Defying the chamber’s topsy-turvy gravity, the black widow then used the gravity glove on her free hand to boost herself off the floor and land on the ceiling opposite Gabriel, then propel herself back down again in order to land on top of him.

Gabriel switched to concussive shots and fired at his airborne opponent, but his shots barely slowed her descent as she extended the glowing tip of the baton towards him like a lance. Gabriel slid to one side to avoid her as she fell, but was too slow to avoid the baton.

The tip brushed Gabriel’s foot, sending a bolt of electricity surging through his armour. The energy-absorbent layers redirected the power surge across the suit’s systems and sent some of it arcing out from his limbs, but it was enough to temporarily short out the exoskeletal motors in his suit. Had it made contact with his flesh, he would have been fried to a crisp.

Gabriel crumpled to the ground in mid-dive as his suit motors were briefly paralysed. System alarms flashed in his helmet HUD, warning him that his exoskeletal motors were non-responsive, like he couldn’t already tell from the fact that his armour felt ten times heavier.

Before he could get up, the black widow pounced on top of him and planted her boot on his chest. Standing over him like a dominatrix, she flipped the baton around in her hand and flicked another switch. This time, a long spike emerged from the opposite end of the baton, and she raised it with both hands like a stake, ready to deliver the killing blow.

Gabriel swung his left fist, the clenching motion causing his remaining three combat claws to extend. He caught the death spike in between the curved claws as it descended towards his neck, and twisted it out of its wielder’s grip, sending it clattering across the floor – or the wall. Then he knocked the black widow’s leg out from underneath her.

With the agility of a gymnast, the black widow turned her sideways fall into a backward somersault, but by the time she was back on her feet, the regenerative systems in Gabriel’s suit had kicked in, restoring his exoskeleton to functionality. Gabriel pushed himself off the ground, returning to his feet, and drew the alien sword from his back, activating its energy field.

The black widow extended her palm towards her baton and used her gravity glove to pull it back towards her. A clever trick, but by the time the baton was back in her hand, Gabriel had already closed the distance and brought the sword to bear, severing her arm at the elbow before bringing the blade back around and striking her neck.

The black widow stood for a moment like a tottering, one-armed statue. Then she fell to her knees and then to the ground, her helmeted head rolling off her shoulders and across the floor like a badly-designed horror prop.

At that exact moment, the column unexpectedly retracted back into the ceiling and the squad’s comm. signals returned to sensor range as they all came flying out of the gravitic tunnel. All three men, apparently alive and well, alighted on the ceiling of the chamber.

“Seems like you didn’t need our help with that one, colonel.” Bale remarked, noting the freshly decapitated black widow.

“Actually, I probably could have used it.” Gabriel replied.

“That fucking observer.” Cato cursed.

“I know,” Gabriel answered, “It split us up on purpose.”

“And almost got us killed in the process.” Viker added.

The giant black column re-emerged from its slot and resealed the gravitic passage, and the members of the squad jumped back down to the floor of the chamber. Gabriel disengaged his gravity belt and joined them.

“Two blocks, over there.” Gabriel pointed to the two ‘keys’, still lying on the floor where he’d dropped them, “the black widow called them ‘keys’.”

“Sounds like superstitious ramblings to me.” Bale suggested.

“Probably,” Gabriel conceded, “but I’m not so sure we should put them back, now.”

“In fact,” He continued, this time speaking aloud, “I’m not so sure that you aren’t at full functionality already, or that you can’t hear us or talk back.”

Silence.

“Fine, I’ll do the talking.” Gabriel shouted at the chamber, “I think you want us to believe that these columns are a power source without which you can’t help us, and I think you’ve avoided helping us until we restore the keys in order to make us think that one requires the other. Why the charade of pretending that you’re less capable than you are?”

More silence.

“Maybe it really does need those columns to speak.” Viker suggested.

Without warning, a section of the floor beneath them and the ceiling above glowed, and a gravitational force hoisted them into the air. It felt like a far more precise version of the black widow’s gravity glove, with minimal strain on the limbs; and they were only being suspended a few feet above the ground.

Nonetheless, they were trapped and helpless.

“The observer underestimated you.” The observer noted.

“So you did intentionally split us up.” Cato said.

“Correct.” The observer admitted without apology, “The deception was necessary to induce you to accomplish your assigned task as quickly as possible, and provided that you did so, there was no serious danger.”

“What do the columns do and why do they need to be restored?” Gabriel demanded.

“They are, in fact, power sources,” the observer explained, “but the observer’s own systems are not dependent on them. Rather, they provide energy to a containment shield. Perhaps you recall seeing it when you first entered the central chamber?”

“It’s for containing the Swarm?”

“Correct. Although with all six columns disabled, the containment shield was barely functional, and unable to prevent the Swarm from entering an organic host.”

“How strong is the containment shield, exactly?” Gabriel asked.

“Clarify your question with context.” The observer requested.

“You know what a ‘joule’ is from listening in on the researchers here, correct?”

“It is a unit of measurement that your species utilises with respect to energy.” The observer replied, “Do you wish to know the maximum amount of energy that the containment field can contain without failing?”

“Yes.”

“The maximum pressure which the containment shield can theoretically exert is equivalent to five multiplied by ten to the fourteenth joules. Which is itself approximately 1.39 times greater than the explosive force of the device you are carrying.”

The rest of the squad collectively blinked, thinking they might have misheard.

“Uh…Colonel,” Cato said tentatively on behalf of the rest of the squad, “with all due respect, what the fuck is he talking about?”

“My ‘command module’ is an antimatter bomb.” Gabriel replied matter-of-factly, no longer seeing the need to keep it a secret, “It has an explosive yield of 86 kilotons, hopefully enough to destroy the observatory, and the facility above with it.”

There was another round of stony silence on the comm. channel.

“So when were you going to tell us this?” Viker asked, his voice trembling with rage.

“When it became necessary to tell you, and no sooner.” Gabriel answered calmly, unmoved by Viker’s anger.

“If, in the course of your private deliberations, you have devised an alternative plan for destroying the Swarm, the observer desires to be informed of it.” The observer interjected.

“So the plan consists of the following.” Gabriel said aloud to the observer, “phase 1: restore the containment shield to full power–”

“Which you can do immediately.” The observer interrupted, deactivating the artificial gravity holding them in place and dropping them back to the floor.

“Phase 2:” Gabriel continued as the squad collected the remaining two oblong keys, “lure the Swarm back to the central chamber.”

“Phase 3:” the observer finished as the last two keys were reinserted, “trap the Swarm and its host inside the containment shield and use your antimatter device to annihilate both.”

“Wait a minute,” Viker interjected, “what about Ogilvy?”

“Clarify.”

“Our squad mate,” Viker clarified, “isn’t there a way to force the Swarm out of him?”

“No.” the observer replied bluntly, “not unless the Swarm departs of its own accord. And even if there were such a way, the effects of neural fusion are irreversible. Even after the Swarm is destroyed, he would remain enthralled to it.”

“He knew the risks when he signed up,” Gabriel said grimly, “and so did we.”

The squad was silent, but out of sombre agreement. From the moment they had sworn the oath and put on the armour, all of them had accepted death as a hazard of duty. Ogilvy’s fate was horrible, but he was no exception.

“This is an armoury,” Gabriel noted, “everyone check your weapons and armour, and stock up on anything that looks useful. Then we’ll head on to the central chamber.”

The entrances to the chamber were suddenly blocked off by energy barriers.

“The observer advises haste.” The observer said, “The Swarm’s thralls have identified your location and are converging on this chamber with speed. The protective barriers will pose only a temporary obstacle.”

“Let’s make it quick, then.”

The squad began to scavenge through the armoury, unearthing a specialised storage case for spare ammo blocks. Gabriel checked his own light machine gun and found he only had a few dozen shots left out of about fifty thousand possible shots. He began dismantling his weapon in order to replace the ammo block with a fresh one.

“Do you value your continued existence, voidstalker?” the observer asked.

The squad paused their work, caught off guard by the question.

“Keep working.” Gabriel ordered, then replied, “What makes you think I don’t?”

“You have a high yield explosive attached your armour,” the observer pointed out, “of a kind which must be actively prevented from detonating. Either you were coerced into carrying it in spite of your sense of self-preservation, or you volunteered for reasons which transcend the self-preservation imperative.”

“I volunteered with full knowledge and complete freedom to decline.” Gabriel stated.

“Why volunteer for a mission with near complete certainty of death?”

“Because there are tens, if not hundreds of millions of lives at stake,” Gabriel replied resolutely, “and if no one is willing to step forward and put their own life on the line for them, they would all be extinguished.”

“You sound as committed to your objective as the Enthralled are to theirs.” The observer replied, “Unless there is a mechanism for safely detaching the device?”

“…There is.” Gabriel confirmed reluctantly, then added over the comm., “thirty minute timer post-decoupling, with anti-tampering fail-deadly mechanism.”

“The concealment of crucial information is not conducive to trust.” Said the observer.

“Neither is splitting us up against our will.” Viker pointed out.

The observer was silent for a moment.

“True.”

“And just as an aside,” Cato added hostilely, “none of us are totally convinced that you aren’t somehow connected to the Swarm itself.”

There was another pause.

“That inference is logical, but inaccurate.” The observer replied, “The Swarm’s nature and origins are unknown, but since its motives are malevolent, its destruction is paramount.”

“On that, we can agree.” Gabriel answered.

They had no choice but to trust the observer, for now.

* * *

The owner of the club had been furious when one of his servers had panicked and called Civil Security instead of him first. His anger was assuaged, however, when the ACS officers pointed out to him that concealing a suspicious death in his establishment would count as criminal complicity, whether or not he had anything to do with it.

The body was lying sideways, knees bent as though he had been kneeling when he died, with a single entry wound through his right temple. The cheap, black market handgun he had presumably used to take his own life was still clutched in his cold, dead hand.

The forensics drone hovered over the body, bathing the corpse in sensory light as it scanned the body from head to toe and back again. Several patrol officers stood guard outside the room whilst two other officers, a forensics specialist and a supervising detective, stayed in the room itself to examine the crime scene.

“Suicide looks like the obvious verdict.” The detective concluded.

“Really?” the specialist asked, raising a sceptical eyebrow.

“Well, look at him,” the detective pointed to the body, “he clearly blew his own brains out. What other explanation is there?”

“A murder set up to look like a suicide.” The specialist replied.

“How?”

“Well why would someone go to the trouble of renting out a private room at some nightclub in order to take his own life?” the forensics specialist asked rhetorically.

“One last fabulous ride before ending it all.” The detective replied, “Seen that before.”

“Which hand did he prefer?” the specialist asked.

“Why does that matter?” the detective asked, puzzled.

“Tell me and I’ll tell you.”

The detective had already reviewed the footage, but he duly pulled up the video from the club’s security cameras. As a Civil Security officer, he enjoyed automatic access.

“Looks like he favours his left hand,” The detective said, “at least, he does in this video.”

“Which raises the question,” the forensics specialist pointed out, “why would a left-handed person hold the gun with his right hand in order to shoot himself?”

The detective was silent, realising his colleague’s point.

“Maybe we should swap jobs.” The forensics specialist quipped.

“Maybe he was ambidextrous?” the detective retorted defensively.

“No evidence for that,” the specialist countered. “It’s more likely that someone forced the gun into his hand without knowing that he was left-handed.”

“And what’s the evidence that someone forced the gun into his hand?”

As if on cue, the forensics drone completed its post-mortem scan and displayed a life-size, holographic recreation of the body in the air. Highlighted in red was the fatal wound through the skull, appearing as a red-shaped cone with the entry wound at the tip and the exit wound at the base. However, there were also uneven blotches of brown on the elbows and wrists as well as on the backs of the knees.

“See those,” the specialist pointed to the parts highlighted in brown, “subcutaneous bruising. Likely caused by applying substantial pressure to the skin.”

“He was physically restrained?” the detective asked.

“That’s what it looks like.” The specialist confirmed.

“So our victim comes here to meet someone,” the detective pondered aloud, “and he even though he looked agitated in the security footage, he came alone; so he probably wasn’t expecting his contact to betray and murder him.”

“At least two suspects forced this guy onto his knees and put their feet on the backs of his knees to keep him on the ground.” The specialist explained, “Then one of them forced the gun into his hand and bent his arm until the muzzle was touching his temple, hence this area of bruising in the crook of the right elbow.”

“A murder made to look like a suicide…” the agent mulled it over.

“Exactly as I said.” The specialist concluded, “probably a professional hit.”

“Not very professionally done, actually,” the detective replied, “a professional killer would never make sloppy mistakes like this.”

“Then who would think to do it this way?”

“Someone who wanted to make sure the job was done in person,” the detective surmised, “with accomplices, but without the expertise to do it properly.”

“Well that leaves motive.” Said the forensics specialist.

“Masterminds know what the motive could be at this point.” The detective replied, “But a DNA match and a name would be a good place to start.”

The forensics specialist scanned the body, coming up with a profile almost instantly.

“Dr Felix Kessler.”