Voidstalker

THE FACILITY

Eventually, the DNI agents completed their search, departing as quickly as they had come. No arrests were made, no equipment was seized, no areas were cordoned off, and no court summons were issued. They simply finished what they were doing and left. Once they were gone, all the staff were summoned to the breakroom for a meeting with the chief legal officer.

J.E. Co.’s chief legal officer was a tall, slim woman, seemingly devoid of emotion or the capacity to overreact; the virtual opposite of the short, stout, irascible man who chaired the company. Aster disliked her intensely. Apart from her cool and stilted attitude, she looked like Jezebel Thorn without the smile, right down to the black-and-gold hair colouring.

“Let me begin by assuming that each and every one of you adhered unwaveringly to your employment contracts, and especially to the nondisclosure clauses stipulated therein.” She began, the force of her implied threat smothered by her dull tone and legalistic phrasing, “and let me finish by reminding you that as long as you fulfil your obligations to the company, the company will fulfil its obligations to you.”

“All the project data was secured to an off-site server before the DNI raid,” Dr Felix Kessler reassured everyone, “they won’t have found anything by searching the computers here, and it’s subject to corporate privilege, anyway.”

“Good.” Said the legal officer.

“Like that would matter to the spooks,” somebody snorted cynically, “just like the phrases ‘due process’ and ‘probable cause’.”

“Corporate privilege means that such data is deemed inadmissible as evidence during litigation proceedings unless specifically requested through the process of legitimate legal discovery.” The legal officer explained dryly, “A raid by the intelligence services does not constitute legitimate legal discovery.”

The scientists stared at her blankly.

“That means even if the DNI somehow got hold of the data, it cannot be used against you in a court of law.” The legal officer translated.

“Has there been any information from the board?” Aster asked.

“Regarding what, specifically?” the legal officer asked.

“Instructions, guidance, advice, anything to show some leadership or direction?” Aster clarified, frustrated by the stonewalling and that annoyingly blank look.

“The board is still assessing the company’s position regarding the DNI raid,” the legal officer replied, “once that assessment is complete, new instructions will be provided.”

“What about the Loki facility?” someone shouted from near the back, “we heard that something happened up there, is that true?”

“That’s a confidential matter.” was the blunt response.

“But we’ve all heard rumours that–”

“Nothing happened at the facility on Loki about which any of you need to be concerned,” the legal officer said in a sharply dismissive tone, “New information and guidance will be communicated to you as and when it becomes available via the company intranet. Until then, go about your day as normal.”

With that perfunctory statement, J.E. Co.’s chief legal officer abruptly departed before the heckling could begin in earnest, leaving the assembled staff standing in confused silence. Apart from a vague and veiled threat about not betraying the company, they still had no idea what was going on or what to do next.

“As project-lead, I say we continue our simulations.” Aster announced, breaking the awkward silence, “No live testing until the board says otherwise.”

“I heard a rumour that the DNI arrested Chairman Darius.” Someone declared.

“There’s no proof of that,” Aster responded, “and rumours won’t help the situation.”

“But that’s how these things start,” someone else cut in, “first the executives are arrested or skip town, then the company gets raided–”

“I don’t know if anything at all has happened to the chairman and neither do you.” Aster shut him down, “right now, the most we can do is go about the rest of the day.”

“All the DNI agents wanted to know about Lawrence Kane.” One of the engineers spoke up, “But I didn’t see them search his office.”

“They did search his office,” somebody else called out, “I saw them go in. Maybe they were looking for something Dr Kane might have gotten hold of?”

“It doesn’t matter what they were here for,” Aster interjected, “what matters is that nobody is in trouble. And I’d like to keep it that way.”

“What about the Loki facility?” another engineer asked.

“What about it?” Aster pursed her lips at the question.

“She wouldn’t tell us what happened up there.”

“And what makes you think I would know?” Aster demanded impatiently.

“Well, it’s just that we heard there was a big accident–”

“Maybe the board doesn’t yet know what happened,” Aster cut him off, “and besides, there are more urgent things for us to worry about right now.”

“But if something happened over there,” the scientist went on, “then shouldn’t we–”

“Shouldn’t we do what, exactly?!” Aster exclaimed, her voice rising to shouting level, “rent out a shuttle and head over there to investigate ourselves?”

“But those are our friends and colleagues over there; your friends and colleagues!”

“For whom nothing can be done!” Aster shouted, her patience evaporating, “In case you’ve already forgotten, the DNI were here raiding our offices; so if something did happen on Loki, everyone over there is either dead or under arrest.”

Everyone fell silent. Aster had said openly and bluntly what they were all thinking, and it sounded a lot harsher coming from her mouth than from the chief legal officer.

“That’s not me being cold or heartless,” Aster continued resolutely, “that’s a cold, hard fact that you all need to accept. Flailing around in anguish helps no one, and the less we involve ourselves in whatever the fuck may have happened over there, the better.”

More silence. But this time, people were nodding in reluctant agreement. As worried as they were about their colleagues on Loki, nobody wanted to be slapped with a criminal complicity charge. It didn’t matter how uninvolved they actually were; the Directorate of Naval Intelligence took a dim view of ignorance and those who pled it.

“If there’s nothing else, it’s time to get back to work.” Aster concluded, “Rerun your simulations and diagnostics, and report back to me before the end of the day.”

* * *

The elevator took the squad a quarter of a kilometre below the moon’s surface before finally trundling to a halt. The heavy blast door unlocked, sliding open and causing a rush of air to flow into the partially depressurised space. Gabriel and the squad stepped out, weapons primed and ready to shoot on sight.

There was no lighting or power, leaving the room pitch black; but through the visual enhancement filters in their helmets the squad could see that they were in an atrium. Aside from pristine rows of leather seating and an unattended front desk, there was nothing else to see. More importantly, nobody jumped out to ambush them.

“No environmental hazards detected.” Ogilvy said through the comm., using his wrist-top computer to adjust his suit’s hazmat module, “Radiation levels are normal too.”

“There should be a security station behind the front desk.” Said Bale.

“Secure it.” Gabriel ordered.

As the squad weaved in between the rows of seating, covering every corner, Doran reached the front of the atrium and vaulted over the front desk, stowing his weapon and accessing the holographic computer controls.

“Everything’s been shut down.” Doran said as he brought everything back online.

“You don’t say.” Viker replied sarcastically.

“No, I mean somebody deliberately powered down the computers.” Doran clarified, “There was no power failure or emergency shutdown that I can see.”

As Doran powered up the system again, the ceiling lights glowed faintly before slowly brightening, re-illuminating the atrium. It wasn’t just deserted, there was no sign that anything out-of-the-ordinary had happened at all. No bodies, no physical damage, no signs of battle; nothing unusual except the lack of people.

“Ogilvy,” Cato said warily, “are you sure there aren’t any hazards in here?”

“I’m pretty sure,” Ogilvy replied, “seeing as I’m using top-of-the-line equipment.”

“That’s not all, by the way.” Doran said as he searched through the computer system, “There’s nothing in the logs to show that anything strange happened. No contamination alerts, no containment breaches, no evacuation order, not even decent encryption.”

“Just because there aren’t any logs, doesn’t mean there wasn’t an accident.” Gabriel pointed out, “or that other parts of the facility aren’t contaminated somehow.”

“So what’s our next move, colonel?” Bale asked.

“Find us a map of the facility,” Gabriel ordered, “We’ll explore this whole place room-by-room, corridor-by-corridor until we find out what’s going on.”

“Done,” Doran replied, “I’ve downloaded the facility schematics to the squad-net. There’s a tram line circling the facility, it can take us wherever we need to go.”

As if on cue, the double-doors swung open. The squad snapped back to attention, aiming their weapons at the lone figure who walked in.

“FREEZE, NOW!” Viker shouted at the man, the voice-modulating speakers in his helmet making him sound demonic.

Confused yet strangely calm, the man obeyed, raising his hands above his head as Viker and Ogilvy closed in on him with weapons raised.

“ON YOUR STOMACH!” Ogilvy shouted, “PALMS FLAT ON THE FLOOR!”

The man did as he was told, lying face down on the ground and spreading his limbs as the rest of the squad joined Viker and Ogilvy. He was wearing maintenance overalls and despite being held out gunpoint, he didn’t seem terribly frightened.

“Identify yourself.” Gabriel ordered the man.

“Uh, Teller. Marcus Teller.” The man replied hesitantly, “I’m a junior technician.”

“What happened here and where is everyone?” Gabriel demanded.

“Well, I can take you to the rest of the facility staff–” Teller offered.

“That’s not what we asked you,” Bale interrupted him sternly, “what happened to this facility and where is everybody else?”

“Nothing happened,” Teller replied calmly, “a perimeter breach was detected, so we went into a soft lockdown and evacuated everyone to secure parts of the facility.”

“What the fuck is a ‘soft lockdown’?” Doran demanded suspiciously.

“A soft lockdown gets initiated in case of a perimeter breach,” Teller explained, “no alarms are triggered, no event logs are registered; just a partial lockdown until the breach is resolved. I just came to get everything up and running again.”

The squad processed the man’s answers, such as they were. Ogilvy switched off his own helmet speakers, remotely deactivating the rest of the squad’s helmet speakers so that their captive wouldn’t overhear them.

“I bet he’s lying.” Ogilvy said.

“Agreed,” Cato seconded, “who goes into ‘partial lockdown’ for a perimeter breach?”

“There was no intelligence on the security protocols used by this facility,” Gabriel pointed out, “he could be telling the truth.”

“So what do we do with him?” Viker asked.

Gabriel reactivated his helmet speakers and turned back to their captive.

“Get up,” Gabriel ordered him.

The hapless junior tech slowly got back on his feet and dusted himself off.

“So, I’m guessing you guys are DNI, huh?” Teller asked.

“Correct.” Gabriel answered, “And I’m sure I don’t need to tell you that it’s in your best interests to cooperate with us. This facility is suspected of illegal xenotech research. We need to access this facility’s computer mainframe to find out.”

“Well, the corporates don’t pay me enough to say no to armed commandoes.” Teller replied nonchalantly, “Follow me, I’ll take you to central operations. If you want to access the mainframe, that’s the place to go.”

With his guests holding him at gunpoint, Teller led the squad back through the doors and down a flight of steps to the deserted tram station.

“So, you guys really think there’s xenotech down here?” Teller asked congenially.

“You work here,” Bale pointed out, “you tell us.”

“Hey, I’m just a junior technician,” Teller replied defensively, “Masterminds know what the scientists get up to in their labs all day. I just keep the machinery running.”

A mag-tram was already waiting, and Teller waved everybody aboard. Once the doors had shut, he keyed in their destination.

“The tram goes to central operations.” Teller explained as the tram began to trundle forward, “But to be honest, you guys are the most interesting thing that’s happened here.”

“The intel brief said that J.E. Co. first lost contact with this place several days ago.” Doran said over the squad comm., “Now this guy’s telling us nothing strange happened except for us showing up? Not even a banal communications loss?”

“We’ll get our answers once we’re at central operations.” Gabriel replied.

“The brief also said that J.E. Co. sent in its own in-house security team to investigate this place,” Cato added his own doubts, “think he forgot to mention that as well?”

“Maybe,” Gabriel replied sceptically, “None of this adds up.”

“Permission to put a bullet in his head just to be safe, Colonel?” Viker half-joked.

“Denied.” Gabriel replied seriously, then added, “For now.”

The facility’s tram glided along at a steady pace, moving slowly enough to see the station names. The squad stood in patient silence whilst keeping a watchful eye on Marcus Teller, who seemed unusually calm for a man effectively being held hostage.

“How long have you worked here?” Bale asked Teller through his helmet speakers.

“About six months.” Teller replied amicably, “They don’t let you go home that often, long term rotations and all. But still, this place is sac…such a great place to live and work, I mean.” Teller apparently corrected himself. “So much to do, so much to learn…”

“What the frick is this guy talking about?” Viker wondered over the comm.

“Here we are.” Teller announced, as the tram glided into the station. The holographic sign above the platform read: ‘Hydroponics’.

Ogilvy grabbed Teller by the collar and threw the man to the ground.

“Do you think we’re fucking stupid?” Ogilvy yelled at the man, aiming his weapon at Teller’s head, “You said we were going to central operations!”

“We are going to central operations,” Teller replied, displaying his bare palms to the squad, “you just have to pass through the hydroponics bay to get there.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Doran informed the squad as he consulted a holographic map.

“Look,” Teller said as he picked himself up off the ground, “you guys asked me to take you to central operations, that’s what I’m doing.”

“It might have helped if you’d told us the route beforehand.” Gabriel said suspiciously.

“It’s up the stairs, straight through the hydroponics labs, and on to central operations.” Teller clarified, “once you’re there, you can do whatever you want.”

The tram doors opened and everyone disembarked, following Teller through the deserted station, then through another atrium before finally arriving at the hydroponics labs.

The squad found themselves at the top of a huge, multi-storey complex covered with greenery and filled with steam, like an indoor tropical rainforest without the trees. The walls were lined with rack after rack of genetically-engineered fruit and vegetables, tended to by aerial drones and robotic arms which took routine readings, and periodically relocated tanks to the ground floor for processing into food.

“The hydroponics labs are entirely automated,” Teller explained, leading the squad across the walkway towards a reinforced door at the opposite end, “each section can produce enough food to feed the entire facility for a decade.”

“So no one needs to come down and monitor the labs at all?”

“Not at all,” Teller replied, stopping in front of the door and turning to face the squad, “except when catastrophe strikes!”

Teller shouted those last two words at the top of his lungs. Without warning, the lights cut out and all the machinery stopped dead.

* * *

After the impromptu staff meeting had concluded, everyone filed out of the breakroom in a visibly sombre mood, dispersing back to their offices and workshops. Aster followed them, heading quietly back to her office, and locking the door behind her.

Then she sat down at her desk and held her head in her hands.

Everything was a mess. No one wanted to think about the fate of their Loki colleagues or what they had been working on. It was an open secret that many of J.E. Co.’s breakthroughs had come out of the Loki facility, and it didn’t take a huge leap of the imagination to guess what they might have been based on. The less they knew, the safer their own necks were.

Gabriel was probably over there, too, risking his own life to investigate what had happened. Every time he deployed on some new mission he was gone for weeks or months at a time; she never knew where he was, or when – or if – he would return. But this time she was more or less directly involved. If he was only going to be gone for a few days, that meant he was staying in the Asgard star system. That couldn’t be a coincidence.

Furthermore, as selfish as it seemed to even raise the subject, career prospects were also in the backs of everyone’s minds. Once word got out about the scandal, clients and investors would flee like rats and new contracts would dry up, potentially forcing the firm to file for bankruptcy. J.E. Co. did offer decent severance pay, but the stigma of having worked for a company rumoured to have dabbled in xenotech would make it difficult to get hired again.

It had been over a decade since she’d left the frontier, leaving behind the prospect of a mediocre future as a mechanic’s housewife with two children. Instead, she had an actual career…with four children and a taciturn supersoldier for a husband. Even so, it was a good life, and she wasn’t about to let it fall apart. It just wasn’t clear what she could do about it.

The buzzer sounded, bringing Aster’s gloomy train of thought to a sudden halt. Felix Kessler’s name was illuminated on the door’s holographic display.

What did he want now of all times?

Aster hastily composed herself before buzzing him in. Felix entered the room, looking distracted and despondent. Without saying a word, he walked straight over to the lounge in Aster’s office and slumped down on the couch.

Wondering why he had turned up, Aster got up and joined him on the couch.

Most days, Felix looked like a middle class teenager dressed like a scientist. He was from the Clouds originally, and he retained a keen sense of fashion with his carefully styled hair, dyed black and gold, and a silver stud in one ear. It was hard to believe that he had advanced degrees in materials science.

Now, however, he looked more like a sleep-deprived corpse. His steel grey eyes looked heavy and his features were sullen, weighed down by the events of this morning. Even his ear-stud looked duller under the light.

“We did all the diagnostics this morning, before you got here.” Felix reported blandly.

“Good to know.” Aster replied, equally blandly.

“We found 0.2367% corrosion on the primary lens of one of the initialiser lasers,” Felix reported, “repairing the lens should be complete by the end of the day.”

“That shouldn’t delay the schedule too much.” Aster answered, awkwardly aware that Felix was dancing around an entirely different issue, “how about the simulations?”

“The simulations have been done to death,” Felix added with weary exasperation, “we really should be starting live-testing right now.”

“I seriously doubt you came all the way to my office to tell me that.”

Felix was silent for a moment.

“How well did you know Lawrence?” he asked suddenly.

“Not as well as I know you,” Aster replied, “But then, I don’t think anyone did.”

“He did like to keep to himself…” Felix noted, hesitant to continue with the topic.

“You think he knew something about what was happening on Loki.” Aster concluded, “Which would explain why the DNI had such an interest in him.”

“Of course he would have known something,” Felix pointed out, “or else he wouldn’t be doing his job as liaison officer. So I was thinking maybe he kept backup logs–”

“No.” Aster interrupted flatly.

“But I haven’t asked you anything yet.” Felix said.

“You came here to ask me if I would use my personal override code to open up his office and find out if he kept any backup logs there.” Aster guessed, “and the answer is no.”

“Well, you are project-lead.” Felix continued hopefully, “And Lawrence’s notes–”

“Would be incriminating material, if they exist,” Aster pointed out, “and, if they contain anything of interest to the DNI, would also be grounds for arrest.”

“So you really want to just bury the whole issue?”

“Yes, I do.” Aster confirmed bluntly.

“Look, this isn’t me being all emotional about what may or may not have happened on Loki,” Felix tried to explain, “I just think it might be worth looking for any notes or logs he might have kept that could be useful to the DNI.”

“The DNI searched all our offices, including Lawrence’s,” Aster reminded him, “if he kept any logs in his office, they would’ve found them already.”

“But if he hid the logs well enough that the DNI didn’t find them, they might still be there.” Felix pressed, “And if we find them, we can make sure the DNI doesn’t, and maybe even salvage some useful data out of this mess.”

“…Are you serious?” Aster answered in disbelief.

“Of course I am,” Felix stood his ground, “why wouldn’t I be?”

“Does the phrase ‘criminal complicity’ mean anything to you?” Aster demanded, “Because that’s the legal term for what you just suggested.”

“Look, it’s not like I want to get anyone else in trouble but–”

“Oh, that’s good to know!” Aster shot back sarcastically, “if you mean that, why don’t you drop the issue and never bring it up again?”

“Well, regardless of what we do with the data, would it really hurt to just look?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Look, Aster, we were all involved,” Felix persisted, “the fact that we all pretended not to know or care about Loki doesn’t make us less complicit.”

“So it’s about moral absolution, is it?” Aster asked cynically.

“Partly, yes,” Felix conceded, “we all benefitted from the research they did; and now, we’re just washing our hands of them? It’s horrible.”

“I know it’s horrible!” Aster shot back angrily, “This whole thing is horrible, I’ve been overseeing the whole project for over a year, remember?”

“So why in Terra’s name shouldn’t we look?” Felix asked in exasperation, “the worst case scenario is we don’t find anything.”

“No, the worst case scenario is we all get arrested for hiding data from the DNI – aka ‘criminal complicity’ – and spend the next few decades in a penitentiary facility.”

“Do you really not want to find out what happened?”

“I’m afraid to find out,” Aster admitted, “and of everyone getting arrested. Keeping our heads down is the best strategy for us.”

“Well I’m afraid to find out, too,” Felix conceded with an earnest, almost pleading tone, “but if there’s anything we can do–”

“I have four children, Felix, all of them under ten.” Aster interrupted him, “I don’t plan to watch them grow up through a weekly video link from a prison cell.”

“So you won’t even consider opening up Lawrence’s office?” Felix asked desperately.

“I don’t see what the point would be.” Aster answered, “Especially since your plan involves potentially landing us in even more trouble with the authorities.”

Felix looked away, sighing in resignation.

“Fine, then.” He got up and left without another word.

Aster remained slumped on the couch long after Felix had gone, glumly processing the tense conversation that had just transpired.

‘Trouble with the authorities’. That phrase had a completely different meaning out on the frontier. ‘Trouble with the authorities’ meant that the government suspected the colony of harbouring smugglers or trafficking their contraband. ‘Trouble with the companies’ meant the colony was behind on its payments, and the corporates’ hired thugs had come to collect.

The reach of the government was infinitely long but seldom felt, and they allowed the corporates to roam more or less freely on the frontier. The former was distrusted but respected, the latter were despised. In spite of their dependence on both, the colonials valued their freedom, and successfully defying either was considered a badge of honour.

But here on Asgard, no such freedom was possible. ‘Trouble with the authorities’ meant far worse than a visit by the Marine patrols or the corporate loan sharks, and no one would congratulate you for it. If you ran afoul of the law here, everything could be taken away from you. Aster had built an entire life here within the hyper-urbanised milieu of this hub-world, and it could all just fall apart as a result of ‘trouble with the authorities’.

So why was she already having second thoughts about Felix’s suggestion?

* * *

As Teller shouted the key phrase, his verbal command caused the power to die, killing the lights with it. The squad was completely blinded as their helmet filters adjusted to the sudden darkness. Gabriel’s helmet filters made the adjustment just in time to see their erstwhile guide charge at Ogilvy and body tackle him against the railings. They tumbled over the top of the railings together and went spinning down into the depths below.

“Fuck!” someone shouted.

“Get that door open!” Gabriel ordered, “I’m going down there.”

Without pausing to hear any objections, Gabriel mounted the railings and leapt down after Ogilvy and his attacker. He kicked back and forth between the glass tanks to slow his fall before landing cat-like on his feet, weapon ready.

Suddenly, the power returned, re-illuminating the hydroponics lab and briefly blinding the squad again as their helmet filters had to reset. When his visual filters had adjusted, Gabriel found himself in a maze of vertically-arranged hydroponic tanks, the thick green trunks of genetically-engineered food plants visible through the steamed glass. Neither Ogilvy nor Teller were anywhere to be seen.

“Ogilvy!” Gabriel called out through the comm., “status!”

“…Six…eight targets!” Ogilvy shouted back, “…maintenance area…Ah!”

Gabriel heard struggling and more shouting; then a sound like electricity or surging static filled the comm. from Ogilvy’s line before it suddenly went dead.

“Ogilvy, come in!” Gabriel tried to hail him, “Lieutenant Ogilvy, respond immediately!”

Silence.

Gabriel felt a small but treacherous fluttering of panic in his chest. A member of his squad had been captured, and with such speed and tactical competence that no one had managed to fire a shot in response. They’d been blindsided. He had been blindsided.

At least Ogilvy’s bio-readings were still green. His comm. was dead, but he wasn’t; and his tracking signal was still within detectable range. But now, Gabriel was confronted with the invidious choice of pressing on towards central operations – their primary objective – and rescuing Ogilvy, which was what the squad would demand.

“Colonel.” Bale hailed Gabriel, “the door up here is sealed with a biometric lock. We can’t get through without a staff member’s DNA.”

“And it’s based on a rotating encryption protocol,” Doran added to the bad news, “It’d take days to bypass the lock electronically.”

“Can you breach it?” Gabriel asked.

“Breach the fricking door?!” Viker snapped in disbelief, “Ogilvy’s been captured–”

“Answer the question!” Gabriel shot back, “can you breach the door?!”

“...Negative…sir,” Viker replied through gritted teeth, “not without damaging the lock, and it’d take about an hour to cut through with a torch.”

“Understood,” Gabriel answered, “Join me down here. We’re going after Ogilvy.”

“Aye sir!” they chorused.

Gabriel’s decision had nothing to do with prioritising Ogilvy’s life. If they couldn’t get through the door to central operations, they would have to find an alternative route, and following the trail of Ogilvy’s captors was the best way forward.

As the rest of the squad found their way down to the ground floor and fanned out to secure the processing area, Gabriel came across a small door on the far side of the room marked ‘maintenance’. It was slightly ajar.

“Found a service hatch, far end of the room,” Gabriel informed the squad, “Ogilvy must have been taken through there.”

“I’ll rip that little snake Teller’s throat out!” Viker snarled over the comm.

“Interrogation first, retribution later.” Gabriel reminded him.

Viker’s unprofessional anger irked Gabriel. The life of a fellow soldier was important, but if Gabriel were on this mission solo, he wouldn’t let the desire for revenge distract him. Viker’s attitude could be a problem.

The squad converged on Gabriel’s position as he pulled open the hatch and ducked inside. On the other side of the threshold was a steep flight of steps leading down into the maintenance area. Not bothering with the steps, Gabriel jumped straight down, landing square on his feet and continuing on as the rest of the squad slid down the rails after him.

The ambient temperature was 35 C, close to Human body temperature, rendering the thermal enhancement filters in their HUDs useless. It was also pitch black, requiring the squad’s helmet filters to switch back to night vision.

“This is clearly a trap.” Cato muttered the obvious.

“Doesn’t matter,” Viker shot back, “we’re not leaving Ogilvy behind.”

Gabriel had to agree with Cato; this whole situation reeked of a trap in the making. Whatever the broader motivations were, the kidnapping of Ogilvy was tactically brilliant, and clearly intended as bait for a larger ambush. In which case, the service hatch had probably been left open deliberately in order to lure them further inside.

Out in the open, Teller would be dead meat; but down here, the squad was at a serious disadvantage. The maintenance area was a convoluted maze of narrow passageways barely wide enough for the fully armoured commandoes to walk down in single file. If it weren’t for Ogilvy’s tracking signal, they would have had no idea which way to go, and would have been forced to split up to search for him.

And what was that surging noise over the comm.? It sounded like radio static, but the DNI didn’t use radio technology. Was it some type of device for immobilising an exoskeleton? Technology like that existed, but DNI armour was supposed to be impervious to it. That someone might have found a way to defeat DNI safeguards was a disturbing thought.

More disturbing still, Ogilvy had shouted about at least eight hostiles attacking him; and yet the squad hadn’t detected anyone or anything right up until the power died. Had they all been too distracted by Teller’s guided tour to pay attention? Or had their ambushers found a way to defeat DNI sensor technology?

After a while, the path traced by Ogilvy’s tracking signal led the squad to another access hatch. They ducked through into a new area, a fully-lit corridor wide enough for two people. Once again, the squad’s helmets had to readjust to the light.

At the end of the corridor were two bodies slumped against the door, both dressed in maintenance overalls. One was clearly dead, his fingers still clutching his throat, having died trying to staunch the blood dribbling from his neck. Moreover, he had clearly been left to die by his fellows as they rushed ahead with their prisoner.

The other was their treacherous guide. He was still alive, barely; clutching his stomach as blood trickled from a wound there. He looked up at the approaching commandoes and gave a wry smile in between catching his breath.

“Should’ve known…about those…damn claws.” Teller wheezed.

There were cleaner and more professional ways of doing this, but there was no time to deal with Teller cleanly or professionally. Besides, Ogilvy’s kidnapping had left the squad angry and unfocussed; they might beat Teller to death before he could tell them anything.

With the rest of the squad holding the prisoner at gunpoint, Gabriel stowed his weapon and clenched his fists. The action caused three slightly curved blades on each hand to slide out from grooves on the back of his gauntlets. Gabriel used the eight-inch long combat claws to impale Teller through his shoulders. Teller groaned and squirmed in pain as he was lifted bodily off the ground, hanging like a limp doll on a set of meat hooks.

“What is going on in this place?” Gabriel demanded through his helmet speakers.

“Things you can’t begin to understand.” Teller grinned defiantly.

Gabriel responded by twisting his claws inside Teller’s shoulders, eliciting a howl of pain from the prisoner as little rivulets of blood trickled from his wounds.

“Answer the question,” Gabriel said menacingly, “and we’ll decide if we understand.”

“Well, your earlier hunch was right,” Teller admitted smugly, “There is xenotech here; the scientists have been studying it for years. But they found something new, something that enlightened them. And they made sure everyone else here was enlightened too.”

“‘Enlightened’?” Gabriel scowled suspiciously, “What in Terra’s name does that mean?”

“It means the dissolution of a prior state of ignorance and the attainment of a state of knowledge.” Teller replied sneeringly.

Gabriel didn’t like being sneered at, and made his displeasure clear by twisting his claws inside Teller’s shoulders again. Teller let out another shriek of agony in response.

“What kind of xenotech did they find, and where did they get it?” Gabriel demanded.

“I don’t know anything specific,” Teller replied, “I’m just a junior tech.”

Pleading ignorance wasn’t an answer, and Gabriel twisted his claws again.

“I never attained that level of enlightenment!” Teller screamed, his prior smugness dissolving under torture, “I really don’t know!”

“THEN WHO DOES KNOW?!” Gabriel bellowed.

“The scientists! Who else?!” Teller screamed back, “They studied it. They’re the ones who required everyone to be enlightened by it.”

“So where are they taking our squad member?”

“Enlightenment takes place in the heart of the Temple.” Teller answered, “You can reach it by passing through the labs.”

‘Temple’ was an odd choice of words; but at least he’d given them a clear answer.

“One last question,” said Gabriel, “J.E. Co. sent one of its security teams to investigate this place, what happened to them?”

“You don’t want to know.” Teller replied with a madman’s grin.

Gabriel made clear what he thought of that answer by giving his combat claws another vicious twist, turning the captive’s grin into another agonised scream.

“If I didn’t want to know, I wouldn’t have asked you.” Gabriel said menacingly.

“They were captured and taken to the Temple to be elevated.” Teller replied, starting to lose breath, “they will serve far better…than they could…in life.”

“Is ‘elevation’ different from ‘enlightenment’?”

“…Very…” Teller replied, slurring his words, “…tell Dani…to go frick herself.”

Gabriel want to ask him who ‘Dani’ was, but the prisoner had lost consciousness, so he let the dying man slide off his claws to the floor. Then he relaxed his fists, causing the claws to retract back into their grooves. It was safe to assume the J.E. Co. team was dead.

“Priorities have changed.” Gabriel said over the comm. as he readied his weapon, “We’re heading to the labs, since that’s probably the epicentre of this.”

“Most of the doors on the way to the labs are biometrically sealed.” Doran said.

“No problem,” Gabriel replied, pointing at Teller, “Take off his hand.”

The squad looked at him.

“You heard me,” Gabriel repeated, “take a knife, cut off his hand, and bring it with us.”

The squad hesitated at the bloody-minded order; but it was a direct order, and they could hardly disobey. Besides, there was no love lost for the treacherous Teller.

Doran crouched down and clasped one of Teller’s hands, drawing a combat knife from his shoulder sheath. He flicking a switch with his thumb, and the edge of the dull-grey blade turned a soft orange colour as it was flash-heated and wreathed in a thin cloud of energised plasma. Teller had already passed out, so he didn’t feel the knife touch his skin, severing his hand in one clean slice and instantly cauterising the wound.

Doran deactivated the flash-heated blade and replaced the knife in its sheath, rising to his feet before waving the severed hand in front of the door’s biometric sensor. The door light flashed green and the door unlocked, sliding open in response.

“One more thing: the rules of engagement have changed. If you see anyone other than Ogilvy,” Gabriel fired a single round into Teller’s skull, followed by a second shot through the skull of the other technician. “Shoot to kill.”