Voidstalker

THE MOON

Death was all around, and plenty of blood too. It stained the floor in semi-congealed pools, and was spattered across the bullet-riddled walls in violet stains. Freshly murdered corpses were strewn across the darkened hallways, the flickering of the half-dead lights giving briefly illuminated snapshots of the slaughter. The din of an alarm was just audible, barely registering through the deathly silence.

Gabriel stepped over the bodies, the sickly squelching noise his boots made puncturing the morbid quietude as he walked down the corridor, surveying the grisly scene before him, the nightmarish aftermath of an ambush. By the time the crew had realised they were under attack, it had been too late to escape. Some had died fighting, others while fleeing, unable to find a hiding place in time.

But there was at least one survivor. Gabriel heard a scrabbling sound from around the corner, and he followed it, taking care not to trip over the corpses. He turned into a side chamber where the ship’s escape pods could be accessed. The straggler was there; he had found an unused escape pod and had his back turned, frantically jabbing at a control panel to get the pod’s door to open. It was too late.

The sound of footsteps entering the chamber made the straggler freeze up in cold terror. He turned around to face the sinister figure that had been stalking him, his silhouette just visible through the shadows. Gabriel stood in the doorway and raised his weapon, taking aim squarely at the target’s head, ready to finish what he had done. The straggler stared back, the certainty of his imminent death evident in his eyes.

Or ‘its’ eyes, rather. Despite the expression of palpable fear, they were still the beady eyes of a cold-blooded reptilian xenotype with inhuman, slit-shaped pupils. There was no reason to anthropomorphise or empathise with it.

Gabriel felt nothing as he pulled the trigger.

* * *

Gabriel awoke with a start. Just like usual, the cold sweat was absent, and the panicked drum beat of his heartrate quickly subsided as the seconds ticked by. But unlike the previous night, there was a lingering feeling present; an undercurrent of uneasiness about the memory. Aliens came with many different faces, but fear looked much the same on each one. It never bothered him at the time, so why would it bother him in his dreams?

He was laying down on a set of cargo boxes in an inconspicuous corner of the vehicle bay, an excellent place to have a powernap, being quiet and out of the way. Also, when the time came to depart for the mission, he and the squad would do so from here, anyway. There wasn’t much in the vehicle bay, apart from the two Wolverine-class APCs secured to the ceiling, most unnecessary cargo having been cleared away.

Looking around, Gabriel noticed the operators gathered at the opposite end of the vehicle bay. They were holding an impromptu bench-press competition to pass the time, taking turns lying down on a set of boxes and lifting a weighted bar. Extra weight was added after each round to see who would reach failure first. They were even using actual weight-disks, instead of an artificial gravity-assisted set-up.

“…8…9…10!” the squad cheered as one of the operators completed his set and strained to put the barbell back on the rack above him. Sweating buckets from the workout, the operator lifted himself up off the boxes and took a water bottle offered to him, draining it in one go before wiping his face down with a cloth. As he re-joined the others, another operator took his place, laying down on the boxes and preparing to lift the heavily weighted bar.

Gabriel watched them as they steadily upped the weight on the barbell. Everyone’s combat armour had to be attached and removed using special machinery, so they couldn’t take off their armour to make it a fair measure of their actual strength. Gabriel’s own armour and physical enhancements were far superior to those of his squad, so heading over to join them with two unfair advantages was out of the question.

No matter. The whole thing was a pointless exercise. Even with armour, the resulting muscle strain and soreness would negatively affect combat performance, even with delayed onset. Furthermore, each operator’s combat armour, combined with surgical enhancements, significantly boosted their physical strength, thus limiting the need for intensive bodybuilding regimens, let alone idiotic displays of muscle power.

Gabriel decided to keep that to himself; telling them what he thought of their competition wouldn’t be good for unit cohesion. After all, they were about to embark on a high-risk mission with a good chance that one or more of them wouldn’t make it back. As silly as they were, he understood that these little bonding rituals were important for squad morale, not unlike the morning group hugs with his children…

Why did he even need a squad to accompany him?

The question re-surfaced unbidden in his head, still unanswered. Voidstalkers were lone-wolves trained and equipped to operate without support for long periods of time in the most hostile areas. Not needing a squad to back you up – or slow you down – was the whole point of voidstalkers. And yet, that wasn’t what bothered him about it.

The director-general must have had a good reason to put him in charge of a squad of operators for this mission – or so he assumed and so he wanted to believe. She always had plans and schemes churning in her mind – that was her job after all – and trying to discern what they were was about as useful as tarot card reading. Perhaps he should have asked her reasons when he’d had the chance.

The operators finished another set of weight-lifting, their cheering interrupting Gabriel’s speculations about his superior’s motivations. Their competition wasn’t just frivolous, it was wasting time. His squad members weren’t children, they were grown men who needed to get ready for the mission ahead.

He also needed to get his own equipment pack fitted.

“This is VS-one-seven-zero-seven,” Gabriel radioed the bridge, “what’s our ETA?”

“We’ll be landing in fifteen minutes, sir.” The ship’s captain replied.

“Understood.” Gabriel jumped off the cargo boxes and left the vehicle bay through a side door which brought him to the ship’s armoury.

The walls of the armoury were lined with racks of assault weapons, sidearms, metallic ammunition blocks kept in sterile cases, and assorted explosive ordnance. At the other end of the armoury was a special platform and frame equipped with robotic arms for fitting equipment modules to the back of a suit of armour. The rest of the squad had had their equipment modules fitted back on Asgard. Gabriel’s own module had to be installed separately.

The armoury technicians were expecting him. Without exchanging a word with them, Gabriel stepped onto the platform and turned his back to the frame. A cylindrical object was extracted from a special storage safe by a pair of robotic arms and mounted onto the slots on the back of Gabriel’s armour. Then a complicated set of mechanical locks on the cylinder interlocked with those on Gabriel’s armour, locking the module in place.

Then came the delicate part. The chief armourer opened up a second safe and removed a key with a complicated geometric arrangement of teeth. Then with the utmost care, he opened up a slot on the bottom of the cylinder and inserted the key. Once it was all the way inside, he turned it 180 degrees clockwise, causing the light to change from green to red. Then with equal care, he removed a tiny sub-key from inside the primary key and returned it to its safe, the slot on the cylinder sealing itself automatically.

“Command module online,” one of the techs said as he consulted a chart, “all suit systems are fully functional. You’re good to go, colonel.”

“Thank you.” Gabriel replied, stepping out of the frame and leaving the armoury.

The squad of operators was still engrossed in their silly weightlifting competition by the time Gabriel got back. They were wasting time.

“Wrap it up,” Gabriel ordered them gruffly as he approached, “we’re dropping down to Loki in fifteen minutes, so I want everyone ready to go well before that.”

The operators looked surprised and more than a little disappointed; but the killjoy was in charge, and they duly obeyed. The barbell was replaced on its rack and the operators began checking and double-checking their armour, ensuring that each piece was locked and sealed in place before readying their weapons. Gabriel checked his own weapon before using the vehicle-bay controls to lower one of the Wolverine APCs to the floor.

The Wolverine had quite a sleek chassis for such a large vehicle, with a v-shaped underside, and a rounded nose. It resembled a bullet with wheels; six monster-sized wheels with knobbles and grooves for off-road travel. Its skin had been treated to a fresh paint-job with a grey camouflage pattern, made somewhat redundant by the emblem on the underside of the nose featuring a stylised image of its snarling namesake. The top of the cockpit was also crowned with a multi-barrelled gun turret for fire support.

“Mount up, everyone!” Gabriel ordered.

* * *

The director-general put on a pair of VR glasses, and inserted the attached earpieces. As she activated the glasses, a two-way link was initiated, projecting an image of a dozen other individuals seated around a virtual conference table. They were scattered across the city using similar set ups, but they all saw the same simulated conference room, complete with surround-sound and holographic images of each participant.

Those seated at the table included the great and the good of the city: representatives from various industrial lobbies, departments of the civilian bureaucracy as well as members of the elected governing council. As per protocol, the mayor was chairing the meeting, but it was clear they had all been waiting for the director-general to join them. Even in hologram-form they looked apprehensive; as well they should be, given the situation.

“Well, now that our illustrious spymistress has joined us, perhaps we should call this meeting to order.” The mayor announced.

The ghost of a wry smile flickered at the corners of Red-eye’s mouth. ‘Spymaster’ would have been acceptable to her; no doubt he was trying to be polite.

“Can you tell us more about what happened on Loki?” the mayor asked.

“The Directorate is still investigating.” Red-eye replied coolly.

“Does that mean you don’t know, or you don’t think we ought to know?” the Interplanetary Shipping Consortium representative asked suspiciously.

“It means that we do not yet know, but will keep each of you appraised according to your respective concerns.” Red-eye answered.

“So what do you know about the situation?” the Justice Ministry’s vice-minister demanded, “or, at least, what do you know that you can tell us.”

“Jupiter Engineering Co. was operating an unregistered research facility on Loki with which they recently lost contact, whether due to a communications failure or something more serious is unknown at this stage.” Red-eye answered with the tone of a newsreader, “However, given that the facility was unregistered, it must have been engaged in illegal research.”

“Xenotechnology research?”

“Almost certainly, although we have yet to confirm that.” Red-eye replied, “More importantly, there is no alien threat to Asgard or to the wider system. This appears to be purely an incident of corporate malfeasance.”

“What assets have you deployed to investigate this?” asked the economy minister.

“The details of ongoing operations are classified.” Red-eye rebuffed him.

“It’s a simple, fleeking question–” the economy minister pressed in exasperation.

“An answer to which you are not entitled to receive.” Red-eye coolly cut him off.

“But if reports come out in the news–” he began to splutter.

“Nothing will appear in the news as long as there are no leaks to the news.” Red-eye shot back, the volume of her voice rising ever so slightly.

Although Red-eye’s words were directed at the economy minster personally, they carried a subtle but stern warning for everyone listening. They all understood the importance of information and its concealment – or its selective disclosure – so if they really wanted to keep this under wraps, all they had to do was keep their own mouths shut.

“Beyond that, I have nothing to add.” Red-eye concluded politely.

“Then, I suppose that concludes your contribution to this meeting.” The mayor said, “We trust you’ll keep us appraised of the situation as it develops?”

“Of course.” With that said, Red-eye deactivated the VR link.

* * *

The image faded to black and Red-eye removed the headset, placing it back on the table. She noticed two pending communication requests on the screen and opened a three-way conference link with both callers. The video images of two senior agents appeared on the screen, a man and a woman, each vid-linking from their respective wrist-top computers.

“Director,” the female agent spoke first, “we’ve finished interrogating the staff at J.E. Co.’s headquarters. They all appear to be clean.”

“Jezebel Thorn’s company offices and records have all been searched.” The male agent reported, “Nothing of her records mentions J.E. Co. at all. PBA-assisted interrogations of her staff also turned up nothing.”

“J.E. Co.’s records are still being searched.” The female agent said, “But anything sensitive will have been moved to an offsite server that we can’t reach.”

“No matter, then,” the director-general reminded her subordinates, “our only concern is xenotechnology, not the data potentially derived from it. Forward your findings to our Civil Liaison Office, they can pass on whatever is relevant to the Justice Ministry.”

“Understood.” The male agent acknowledged, “But I recommend we sic a surveillance team on Jezebel Thorn until the situation on Loki is resolved.”

“Permission granted.” The director-general said, “Make the arrangements.”

The male agent nodded and deactivated his comm. link.

“All other tasks and preparations at J.E. Co. were completed.” The female agent said.

“Good,” Red-eye said, “in the meantime, consider the researchers to be active leads. We still don’t know how much they knew about the facility on Loki, or if there was any corporate espionage going on.”

“But I just got done interrogating them.”

“A calm liar with a high degree of self-control can fool the analysis,” Red-eye replied coolly, “and the best moles, by definition, can and will pass most attempts to detect them.”

“Understood,” the agent acknowledged, “what about Dr Aster Thorn?”

“What about her?”

“Her PBA score was 91%, barely a passing mark.” The agent explained, “But she threatened to call her husband during questioning, and she believed the Loki facility only had a few hundred staff. Should we be concerned about her?”

“Keep an eye on her along with the others,” Red-eye instructed, “but unless something new comes to light, she’s just another active lead.”

“Understood.” With that said, the video link was terminated.

* * *

Loki was a barely visible dot in the shadow of the deep blue gas giant Odin, a dark and diminutive dwarf orbiting in gloomy contrast to the hub-world of Asgard with its sprawling and shimmering metropolises. Loki’s surface looked barren from orbit, but it was actually criss-crossed with a complicated network of valleys and ridges, and its open plains were pockmarked with craters from aeon’s worth of meteor strikes.

The DNI ship slipped quietly into the moon’s atmosphere, its sleek and stealthy hull absorbing almost every ray of light that touched its matte-black surface. It was similar to the material which covered the Spire, and it could defeat almost all known forms of sensor technology. No one and nothing would know it was there.

Just as their intelligence had indicated, the landing pad was 20km away from the actual facility. Concealed in one of the many shallow craters that dotted the moon’s surface, it was equipped with an uplink array and an automated crane system for handling cargo. Officially, there were no settlements or facilities of any kind on Loki, but the landing pad seemed big enough to handle trade for an entire town.

Swooping down low, the DNI ship slowed to a halt above the landing pad and opened the vehicle bay doors on its underside, dropping the Wolverine APC from inside. The anti-gravity plating on the vehicle’s underbelly glowed faintly, slowing its fall to a safe velocity. As the Wolverine touched down on the landing pad, bouncing gently on its suspension, the DNI ship sealed the vehicle bay’s doors again before firing its engines and disappearing back into Loki’s twilit sky.

The 40 tonne armoured vehicle rolled forward and down the landing pad’s ramp onto the moon’s surface. The perfectly smooth surface of the landing pad made it difficult for the Wolverine to move forward on its knobbly wheels, but they found much better purchase on the moon’s crooked terrain. The vehicle began to trundle forward up the side of the crater, following a well-worn path made by countless automated cargo shipments.

The Wolverine’s interior was definitely not built for comfort. Four of the operators – Doran, Ogilvy, Cato, and Bale – were squeezed into the seats, two on each side, facing each other with their weapons secured to their chest plates. The fifth operator, Viker, was in the cockpit guiding the Wolverine along the bumpy path while Gabriel squatted down behind him, holding onto the safety rungs on the ceiling to steady himself.

“ETA: 30 minutes,” Viker announced, “assuming these coordinates are right.”

“And if they’re not?” asked Lieutenant Doran, a heavy-set man with a blond buzz-cut.

“If not, we’ll be driving around in circles until the fuel cell runs out of power.” Viker replied, before adding, “in which case, ETA: one decade.”

There was a round of chuckling – which Gabriel didn’t join – followed by silence as they reached the edge of the crater and climbed up over the ridge. The Wolverine emerged onto a vast plain where it began to pick up speed as it travelled across the empty moonscape, following the indicator in the cockpit’s display. The journey was uneventful until one of the wheels hit a rock, jolting the vehicle’s passengers without warning.

“Ok, I’m taking the wheel on the way back,” Doran complained, “because Viker fucking sucks at driving this thing.”

“Fine by me,” Viker replied, unfazed by the criticism, “as long as I’m the one who gets to bitch in your ear when you crash.”

The squad laughed. Gabriel didn’t. There was silence.

“Speaking of bumpy rides,” Ogilvy broke the silence, “you’d think the DNI could afford to lend us a decent antigravity tank like the Marine Corps has.”

“No good for a mission like this,” Gabriel said, breaking his usual taciturnity, “The antigravity cushion generated by a skimmer-type vehicle is easily detectable. Plus, antigravity levitation beds consume far too much power for a mission like this, they’re also prone to damage and breakdowns. A rolling chassis is far more durable and reliable.”

There was a pause as everyone took this information onboard.

“Our very own Mastermind has spoken.” Cato remarked with an amused smile, eliciting chuckles from the rest of the squad.

“The colonel’s right, by the way.” Viker informed the squad, “I trained on the scout-skimmers and rapid-assault tanks in the Navy. Fricking fast and agile, but they burn through huge amounts of power just to stay off the ground. And the whole piece of levitation tech that keeps them in the air is incredibly fragile; one knock to the underside can short out half the cells. If that happens, the only way forward is straight down.”

“So, it’s good you’re behind the wheel of a tank with wheels.” Bale quipped.

“Easy on the jokes, captain,” Viker replied, “I can’t drive if my sides are splitting.”

The squad laughed again. Gabriel remained silent.

“Why do we say the word ‘wheel’ like that?” Ogilvy pondered aloud, pointing to the holographic interface in the cockpit, “I mean phrases like ‘take the wheel’, ‘asleep at the wheel’. It doesn’t make sense since it’s not an actual wheel.”

“It’s a classical reference.” Gabriel explained, “Primitive vehicles on ancient Earth used a kind of wheel in the cockpit which had to be physically turned by the driver in order to steer. The technology changed, but the metaphors endured.”

There was another spell of silence.

“Don’t remember learning that in school.” Cato remarked, “Just a standard education in between chores around the outpost; then it was off to join the Navy.”

“You’re a colonial too?” Captain Bale asked.

“I think we’re all colonials in here, aren’t we?” Doran wondered.

“Not me,” said Viker proudly, “Asgard Undercity, born and bred. First time I ever left Asgard was to ship out for basic training.”

“You don’t talk like an under-dweller.” Ogilvy remarked.

“Well I can if y’ask me.” Viker replied in Undercity dialect.

“I didn’t understand a word of that.”

“Neither do my fricking in-laws.” Replied Viker, eliciting another round of laughter.

“…What about you, Colonel?” Captain Bale asked, “If you don’t mind me saying, your accent sounds very…standard.”

“It wasn’t always standard,” Gabriel responded, “I used to talk like a ‘fleeking’ flute.”

Gabriel’s response raised eyebrows.

“You’re from the Clouds, sir?” Doran asked, picking up on Gabriel’s word choice.

“Originally, yes.” Gabriel replied.

There was another long spell of silence as the Wolverine made brisk progress across the plain. Instead of a windscreen, the cockpit featured an all-encompassing holographic view of the vehicle’s exterior, giving the visual impression of an open-air cockpit looking out on the starry sky and surrounding landscape. Ahead, the ridgeline loomed large, and a gap in the rocks became faintly visible; a canyon entrance of sorts from which a tiny speck emerged.

A yellow icon began to flash on the holographic interface, signalling the approach of an unidentified object. It was the same speck visible in the distance.

“Contact, dead ahead!” Viker announced, tapping the icon, “looks like a freight hauler.”

“A freight hauler?” Bale asked suspiciously, “why would the base still be getting supplies if it’s out of commission?”

“Supply runs are all automated.” Gabriel pointed out, “If something happened to the staff, then there wouldn’t be anyone around to cancel the shipments. Keep driving.”

Viker kept a steady speed as the speck grew larger and more distinct. It was indeed an automated freight hauler – an AI-controlled sixteen-wheeler flatbed with a single, large cargo container clamped onto the back; Jupiter Engineering Co.’s company logo visible on the side. The freight hauler hurtled past the Wolverine apparently without incident.

“Good,” Gabriel said, echoing everyone’s relief, “just a freight hauler.”

“Sir, that hauler pinged our IFF as it passed!” Viker dampened everyone’s relief.

“Why the fuck would it do that?” Asked Doran with alarm.

“No idea.” Viker replied, “But whatever system it’s connected to, it knows we’re here and it knows we’re not with J.E. Co.”

“Secure your restraints, everyone!” Gabriel ordered as he locked his own armour down and squeezed the ceiling handles, “Viker, double-time it to the objective!”

“Aye sir!”

The Wolverine’s wheels kicked up a conspicuous cloud of dust as it picked up speed. The vehicle’s suspension minimised the bumps and shocks as much as possible, but with the element of surprise apparently lost, nobody cared to complain about the rough ride.

Two more icons appeared on the display. Red ones.

“Contacts, behind us!” Viker announced as he tapped the icons, “two vulture-class patrol drones. Readying the turret now!”

“Negative!” Gabriel countermanded him, “save our ammo.”

“But sir, they’re closing in for–”

“The support turret is useless against fast-moving aerial targets,” Gabriel shouted back, “we need to lose them in the canyons!”

“Aye sir!”

Viker gunned the accelerator for everything it was worth and the Wolverine roared forwards, passing 200kph. The gash in the ridgeline loomed large and welcoming on the visual display even as the rear-view image in the corner showed two menacing, dark shapes swooping low over the open plain like birds of prey chasing down a frightened rabbit.

“Firing up the ECM module.” Viker shouted as he swiped the activation switch.

“Electronic countermeasures won’t work at point-blank range!” Doran shouted.

“1000 credits says they will.” Viker shouted back, “and if I’m wrong, I’ll pay up later!”

Leaving a billowing cloud of dust in its wake, the Wolverine vanished into the canyon entrance without another second to spare. Both patrol drones opened fire, sending two energy-seeking missiles streaking across the plain towards their intended target. One missile struck the ridgeline above the canyon entrance, vaporising several tonnes of rock in a ball of flame, while the other flew straight in after the Wolverine.

Viker was right. The Wolverine’s ECM module saturated the surrounding air with junk data, blinding the missiles’ guidance systems. The patrol drones, however, weren’t fooled or dissuaded. Their on-board computers could scrub most of the junk readings even if the missiles couldn’t, and they flew straight in after the Wolverine.

The canyon itself was only one part of a bewildering maze of geological troughs and gorges, carved out by a long-since dried up network of ancient rivers, and squeezed between numerous, steeply-angled escarpments and sheer cliff walls stretching hundreds of feet above. The Wolverine zoomed along the edge of the valley like a plump sports car on a racetrack with the patrol drones in hot pursuit.

“This terrain is killing the suspension!” Viker shouted to make himself heard over the sound of the Wolverine’s violently vibrating chassis.

“Better it than us!” Gabriel replied, echoing the rest of the squad’s thoughts, “keep pushing into the canyons! If we can find one narrow enough, we can lose them!”

Aided by the low gravity, the Wolverine rocketed forwards along the half-pipe shaped trough as the patrol drones followed close behind. One of the drones opened fire with a chin-mounted laser turret, scorching the ground with a near-infrared beam of blazing hot light.

The beam briefly made contact with the Wolverine’s outer hull, releasing a hissing cloud of dark smoke as a layer of the vehicle’s ablative armour skin was boiled away, but leaving the vehicle itself unharmed.

Viker swerved hard to the right, crossing the middle of the trough at high speed to evade the laser beam and confuse the patrol drones. It didn’t work. The drones soared high, flying abreast of one another to cover each side of the trough as their fast-moving target zig-zagged between the piles of rocky debris in the middle of the canyon.

“We can’t keep this up forever!” Viker shouted over his shoulder, “They probably have onboard maps of the entire area!”

It was a wonder Viker could talk at all as he tried to navigate a natural obstacle course at dangerously high speeds, all while keeping an eye on the hostile red icons harassing them. The Wolverine’s on-board computer assisted with the driving, but it was still a hell of a multitasking challenge for just one person.

“There!” Gabriel pointed. “Try that fork up ahead!”

Viker drove the Wolverine towards the right-hand fork before lurching left at the last second. The patrol drones – themselves flying at high speed – were caught off-guard by their target’s surprising agility. One of the drones swerved hard and lost valuable time flying up over the top of the canyon wall before swooping back down into the left-hand fork to catch up with its quarry. The other drone kept flying down the right-hand canyon.

“We lost one!” Viker shouted as one of the red icons vanished off the edge of the screen.

Gabriel doubted it. The chase had plunged his mind into a hyper-focussed combat fugue, blurring the distinction between wariness and paranoia. Viker was probably right about the drones having on-board maps of the region; and so there was no way that an AI-piloted combat drone would simply give up the search.

Ahead, the trough itself veered even further to the left, but the sheer rock wall was broken by a steep natural ramp on the right hand side, leading straight up and over the ridge into the right-hand canyon. Viker turned right and drove the Wolverine up the ridge as the pursuing drone closed in low behind them, ready for a point-blank kill.

Near the top of the ridge, the other red icon suddenly reappeared.

“The other one’s back!” Viker yelled, “Dead ahead of us!”

“Swerve! Now!” Gabriel barked.

Viker slammed the brakes and brought the Wolverine around in a full, screeching circle – not a safe thing to do at breakneck speed – right as the other drone reappeared in their path, popping up from the right-hand canyon below to ambush them. The timing couldn’t have been more perfect as the pursuing drone jetted over the top of the escarpment at maximum speed, overshooting the Wolverine and slamming into the other drone.

The two drones collided in spectacular fashion, each one devoured in a mutually encompassing ball of flame and mangled debris. The collision sent thousands of flaming fragments raining down across the landscape like a localised meteor shower. The now stationary Wolverine’s shielding flashed, deflecting incoming shards of debris as the flaming wreckage of the drones went spinning down into the canyon below.

The squad was ecstatic.

“Two-for-one kill without firing a shot!” Viker shouted triumphantly, “Frick yeah!”

“I take it back, Viker,” Doran exclaimed, “You should’ve been a racer!”

“Get your heads together, everyone,” Gabriel poured cold water on their celebrations, “Those can’t have been the only two drones out there.”

Sure enough. Two more red icons appeared on the screen, closing in from behind.

“Two more contacts!” Viker announced as he hit the accelerator.

He brought the Wolverine speeding down into the right-hand canyon, zig-zagging between the rocks and wreckage as two more patrol drones flew over the ridge from behind and swooped in after them.

“I doubt the same trick will work twice!” Captain Bale shouted.

“Agreed!” Gabriel shouted in response, “Ready the support turret!”

“You want us to try shooting them down?!” Viker asked incredulously, toggling the turret’s fire-control system.

“Not yet!” Gabriel replied, “Wait for the right moment!”

The canyon was starting to grow narrower and straighter. The Wolverine had to count more and more on sheer speed as it weaved in between the rock piles within the confined halfpipe of a riverbed. The patrol drones closed in like a pair of hunting hornets, staying just above the top of the canyon as they chased their prey into a kill zone.

“Prime the turret!” Gabriel ordered.

“Primed!” Viker said as he highlighted the red icons, “hostile targets designated!”

The drones were flying at too high an angle for the turret to hit…yet.

“Keep the turret locked forward!” Gabriel added, “I have an idea!”

The canyon wasn’t just getting narrower and straighter, it was also sloping downwards. The drones were about to lose their quarry, so one of them swooped down into the narrow gorge, where there was just enough space for it to fly through with room to manoeuvre. As the drone closed in from behind, it readied its missiles.

“It’s got line-of-sight!” Viker said, panicking, “the ECM won’t save us this time!”

“Brake, now!” Gabriel barked.

Viker slammed the brakes, causing the Wolverine to decelerate violently. The drone overshot its target before it could open fire, bringing it into the turret’s crosshairs.

The turret released a deadly spray of armour-piercing rounds into the drone’s vulnerable rear, puncturing its armour and mangling its engines and internal systems. The damage inflicted caused it to falter like a wounded bird before careening to the ground, the impact igniting its weapons and releasing a dramatic flurry of flames and debris.

“Three down!” Viker yelled triumphantly as the squad celebrated.

“There’s still one more drone out there.” Gabriel reminded everyone soberly.

“Right.” Viker stopped his premature celebrations and hit the accelerator again.

Sure enough, just as the Wolverine was picking up speed, the fourth patrol drone swooped down in front of them, unleashing a barrage of missiles.

“Woah!” Viker yelled in a panic and slammed the switch for the anti-gravity plating.

The anti-gravity plating was meant for safe landing on a planet’s surface, not aerial acrobatics, but the trick worked. Aided by forward momentum, the Wolverine was lifted clear off the ground, causing the incoming barrage of missiles to undershoot the Wolverine and saving it from certain destruction.

The Wolverine’s wheels hit the ground rolling as it shot forwards to escape.

“Nice one, Viker!” Ogilvy shouted.

“Thank me when we’re in the clear!” Viker shouted back as he swerved to avoid the wreckage of the third downed drone.

“These AI drones keep learning from every tactic we use!” Gabriel shouted, “We’ll need to get into cover of some kind!”

“The objective isn’t far from here!” Viker replied, noting the path on the map.

“Then that’s where we’re going!”

There was precious little room to zig and zag in the tiny gorge, but the upside was that the remaining patrol drone had to pull up to avoid getting squeezed between the rock walls. It would have to catch its target out in the open again.

Eventually, the narrow pathway took a leftward turn and widened out. The Wolverine emerged into a vast impact crater, resembling an amphitheatre-like basin whose surface sloped down into what looked like a sinkhole at the centre. Viker steered clear of the sinkhole and circled around the outer edge of the basin as fast as he could.

“The facility’s entrance is on the other side of this basin.” Viker said as he navigated around the edge of the basin, “but it’ll be a dead-end once we get there.”

The patrol drone reappeared above and swooped down low towards the Wolverine, firing its laser turret and leaving a blackened trail as the beam chased its target. Viker brought the Wolverine back around and drove through a gap in the rocks towards the research base, exiting the basin with the drone in hot pursuit. Up ahead at the base of a sheer cliff-face was a man-made structure: a vehicle ramp leading up to a set of loading bay doors. It was the entrance to the facility. Like Viker had said, it was also a dead-end.

“Last stand!” Viker shouted, switching the turret’s fire control system to AI control.

Just shy of the doors, Viker brought the Wolverine swerving around just as the patrol drone opened fire with its laser turret. The laser beam boiled away part of the Wolverine’s ablative armour coating as its turret swivelled round and returned fire.

The drone’s armour couldn’t withstand the blizzard of bullets, and it burst into flames as it came tumbling from the sky, bouncing along the ground like a burning bowling ball before smashing straight through the loading bay doors. A huge tongue of flame spewed out from the entrance as the flaming wreckage of the downed drone ignited whatever was being stored inside the loading bay, reducing it to smoke and burning debris.

The squad watched the images in silence. They were all glad to be alive, but they hadn’t intended to actually demolish the front door.

“At least we don’t have to knock.” Gabriel quipped wryly.

* * *

Viker drove the Wolverine up the vehicle ramp, through the flames and smoke, and into the loading bay itself, then he brought the vehicle around before bringing it to a complete halt and killed the engine. The squad secured their helmets, checked their weapons, and made sure their armour was sealed; then Gabriel moved to the vehicle’s rear and hit the release button. The rear-door unfolded into a boarding ramp and the squad poured out of the vehicle with their weapons raised, fanning out to secure the area.

In fact, there wasn’t much of an area left to secure. After smashing through the doors, the drone had kept on going until it hit the back wall, flinging flaming fragments at high speed in all directions; shredding most of the cargo modules stored there. Dozens of small fires blazed around the area, diminished slightly by the thin air and automated sprinklers, and an emergency klaxon could be heard blaring in the background. Any threat that might have been waiting for them hadn’t survived the drone’s spectacular entrance.

Doran walked over to the burnt-out frame of the patrol drone to examine it. Its outer skin was riddled with pockmarks from the Wolverine’s turret, but the frame itself had been blown open by the crash, exposing the damaged electronics inside which flickered and sparked from the residual power.

Doran gave the downed drone a vindictive kick.

“Pretty crappy armour.” He sneered over the comm.

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.” Ogilvy remarked.

“Hey, I’m not complaining,” Doran replied indifferently, “I’m just saying you’d think these rich corporates could afford to equip their drones with proper shielding.”

“Evidently, they didn’t expect their targets to shoot back.” Gabriel said.

“Um, speaking of shielding,” Viker interjected with a note of concern, “the Wolverine’s defences took some damage back in the canyons.”

“How much damage?” Captain Bale asked.

“To the vehicle itself, none.” Viker clarified as he scanned the Wolverine’s exterior, “but about 40% of the thermal ablative paint is gone. If we have to run that hawk-and-rat race again, it’ll be a lot harder getting back in one piece.”

“But the shields are ok, right?” Asked Cato, concerned.

“They are, but they’re only good against bullets and shrapnel,” Viker responded, “Against lasers, particles beams or plasma, not so much.”

“One problem at a time,” Gabriel said, “Someone find us a way down.”

“Found it!” Doran said, accessing the door panel for a personnel elevator. “This elevator leads straight down to the main lobby.”

“Pretty obvious place for an ambush.” Ogilvy pointed out.

“Well if you prefer, we can always take the cargo elevator down,” Doran explained, “if you don’t mind getting lost in the guts of the supply network.”

“Personnel elevator it is, then.” Ogilvy conceded

“I’ve set the Wolverine’s turret to auto-defend,” Viker informed the squad, “it’ll gun down anything that comes back up this way; except for us, of course.”

“Good,” said Gabriel, “everyone, move out.”

The squad filed into the elevator and waited as the doors sealed shut behind them automatically. A set of nozzles released a fine spray, filling the space with a translucent white cloud of anti-hazard chemicals which circulated around the enclosed space for a minute before being sucked out again by the nozzles. Once the decontamination process was complete, the elevator began to slide downwards on a diagonal rail into the depths below.

“Remember,” Gabriel reminded the squad, “this is an IRS op. Investigate the facility, retrieve any useful data, and scrub any threats. Survivors are potential intelligence assets, but ultimately expendable.”

“Understood.” The squad chorused.

“What do you think we’ll find down there, colonel?” Cato asked.

“If I knew, we wouldn’t be heading there in the first place,” Gabriel replied before adding gravely, “but usually these sorts of ops are glorified police raids. Teams of regular agents storm the place, cuff everybody, and seize anything of interest. If the DNI is sending us in, it’s because everybody’s already dead.”

“How much resistance is there usually?”

“Well, no one wants to be arraigned on xenotech possession charges.” Gabriel replied, “That’s a reasonable incentive to shoot back. But like I said, if we’re being sent in, whatever experiments they were conducting must have gotten them killed. Any survivors will gladly take a prison cell in exchange for safety.”

“Well if they are stupid enough to shoot at us, we’ll kill them first!” Ogilvy said.

“Damn right!” Doran added his own bravado.

The squad’s morale was high heading down towards what could be certain death. High morale was a good thing, technically. But listening to their bravado made something click in Gabriel’s mind: the real reason he was uncomfortable leading a squad.

Their camaraderie, their banter, their bonds of friendship; it mattered at least as much to them as the mission itself, if not more. Furthermore, all of them undoubtedly assumed that he felt the same level of commitment to the unit as they did.

He didn’t. A voidstalker was a lone wolf, there was no room for bonds of comradeship. If Gabriel were forced to choose between the squad and the mission…

He would leave them all to die.