“They aren’t supposed to impede an RRT.”

  “No they aren’t, Lieutenant Keller. Yet that’s exactly what they’re doing.” Mack sighed. “A few of us saw real, genuine action in the Eighth War, but we’re still scientists and we’re not planning to shoot our way to victory, whatever that might be. If the Estral say no, there’s not much we can do about it.” Mack perched herself on the edge of one of the oversized chairs. Her feet dangled to the ground and she looked like a child with an adult face.

  The rest of the response team were listening in and a woman spoke up – Research Lead Enny Hunter from the badge on her spacesuit. “We thought they’d send more. Y’know – like a gazillion ships or something.”

  The research team members had a high level of security clearance, so Nation wasn’t too worried about giving away classified Space Corps information. Besides, opinions were allowed. “We don’t want to start another war.”

  “Definitely not,” said RL Matthew Griffin. “We just won the last one.”

  Another woman jabbed him playfully in the ribs. “Four years ago, Matt. Back when you were learning how to walk.”

  “Cut it out, Fletcher. This is serious crap here. You know what we’ve been talking about,” Griffin looked furtive for a moment and then attempted an authoritative stare in the direction of Keller and Nation. “I guess they sent you here because you can get a job done?”

  “That’s the idea.”

  “Top secret, huh?”

  “For the moment.” Keller could see that Griffin was scared and she intended to find out what had left this team so spooked. “What’s going on here, Lieutenant Mack?”

  “The Estral are – were - using this place to refine Obsidiar-Teronium into Istoliar. I have no doubt about that. Isob-2 isn’t permitted to produce any whatsoever, but it appears as though they’ve been giving it a go.”

  “You received a Granol-42 detection alert, didn’t you?” asked Keller.

  “That’s what brought us here in the first place. We’ve got monitoring tools installed in each of the Estral refinement facilities and we got a Granol-42 warning from levels Sub-12 all the way through to Sub-62. Granol-42 is a known by-product of a near-miss,” said Mack with a tight smile. “They tried and failed to make a chunk of Istoliar somewhere below us.”

  “Does that suggest this is their first attempt?” asked Nation.

  “Not necessarily. It takes a few things working in tandem to make Istoliar. They could have been successfully producing it for some time without us knowing about it.”

  “Don’t we have monitoring tools that can pick up Istoliar as well?”

  “Of course, Lieutenant Keller. All the way down to level Sub-62.”

  Keller caught the unspoken words. “You think they’ve enlarged the facility?”

  “I think there’s an excellent chance of it.”

  “Yeah,” said Hunter. “The Granol-42 concentration at Sub-62 is waaay higher than it should be. The main kit they have which could be used in a refinement process is on levels Sub-30 through Sub-45. That’s where I’d expect to see the highest concentration of contaminants.”

  “Exposure to Granol-42 is invariably fatal, unless you’re wearing a decent suit,” said Keller. “No cure, no comeback.”

  Mack nodded. “That’s why we’re assuming everyone is dead.”

  JN> Admiral Cody must have known all this before he sent us.

  BK> You’d think.

  JN> What are we missing?

  BK> Let’s ask them and find out.

  “It sounds like we’ve got enough proof to show the Confederation Council,” said Nation. “Why haven’t you been recalled?”

  “Because we have only found evidence, Lieutenant Nation. Not proof.”

  “So this Granol-42 could have come from another source?”

  “In certain circumstances, unstable Obsidiar-Teronium can produce a quantity of it, along with Istilin and Polysempe, both of which are similarly toxic.”

  “The sniffer can read those ones through two klicks of solid stone,” drawled Hunter. “And it’s picking up traces right now.”

  “One thing’s for certain, Lieutenant,” Mack resumed. “There has been some extensive pissing about on Isob-2 and it’s definitely not within the spirit of the Eighth War Peace Treaty Agreement.”

  “Have you managed to get anything from Koltar-Reon or any of the Estral? It’s a long shot, but they have been known to slip up.”

  “Oh, they’re up to something. Mark my words,” said Hunter. “This is the shadiest bunch of Estral I ever did see, and I’ve seen some good ones.”

  “We can’t send a fleet out here on the basis they’ve been acting a bit strange,” said Keller. “This is their facility after all and they don’t like us being here.”

  “Have you got any idea if the Estral are planning to clean the place up?” asked Nation. “I assume they won’t need to abandon everything here?”

  “I was coming to that,” said Mack, “And you aren’t going to like what I’m about to tell you.”

  “Let’s have it.”

  “You’ll have no doubt noticed the presence of an Estral fleet in orbit above Isob-2. When we arrived with the SC Givens, several of those warships were in the process of deploying shuttles.”

  Keller nodded. “We saw them in the hangar bay – big ones. We were hoping to find out what they were doing here.”

  “We didn’t exactly get a guided tour, but as far as we know, those shuttles were empty by the time we received clearance to come into the hangar bay,” Mack continued. “So they either sent down empty shuttles to bring up the dead, with no one actually left on the base to haul up the bodies, or they sent shuttles filled with their own personnel.”

  “By which she means soldiers,” said Hunter, butting in again.

  “It would make sense for them to try and clean the place up,” said Keller. “If they went deeper than Sub-5, they must have been gone for a couple of days now. The aftereffects of a major incident would take a lot longer than that to fix, right?”

  “They’ve been down there a couple of days that we know of,” said RL Hunter. “It could have been longer.”

  Mack’s jaw tightened at the interruption. “A clean up might take months, Lieutenant Keller. I assume the Estral are far below here, doing everything possible to sweep away the evidence of their Obsidiar-Teronium refinement operation. Once they’re done, they could throw open the doors to Sub-6, invite us down for a look, and try to convince us everything is as per the terms of the treaty.” Mack dropped down from the chair and rubbed the back of her legs. “Except, we saw them send about three hundred troops into Sub-6 only a few hours ago.”

  “Heavily armed troops,” said Griffin. “They must have just got here.”

  “And they tried their damnedest to keep us away from them,” said Hunter. “Like we weren’t going to notice that happening.”

  “It’s not unusual to expect troops to be involved, given the scale of the problem,” said Nation.

  “It’s not only the troops,” said Hunter. “Tell them what the sniffer found, Lieutenant.”

  The flicker of irritation appeared again on Lieutenant Mack’s face. “Ever since we got here, the sniffer’s been picking up vibrations which it attributes to moderate-sized explosive blasts.”

  The implication was clear, but Nation had to be sure.

  “Would they use charges to destroy their refinement hardware? Maybe they could use them to cut off access to some of the lower areas.”

  “All of these things are possible, Lieutenant Nation. I can’t imagine the requirement for several hundred separate detonations.”

  “They’re fighting,” said Griffin helpfully. “We think maybe there’s been a rebellion within the Estral and for some reason it’s playing out on Isob-2.”

  “Terrorists, or something,” added Hunter. “Stupid aliens,” she added for good measure. It wasn’t the kind of attitude personnel were meant to display, but after eight discrete wars it was a widely-held view.

  “And here we are, stuck on level Sub-5, waiting to see how it all pans out,” said R2 Lola Fletcher, another member of the team who’d been quiet up until now.

  “If the terrorists win, they’re going to come up here and murder us all,” added Hunter with apparent relish.

  “Have you told Admiral Jacks?” asked Nation. “Since he’s in charge of your RRT, he should order a withdrawal.”

  “We’ve been told to stop acting jumpy and wait for support,” said Lieutenant Mack. She pointed with two fingers at once. “And here you are.”

  RL Hunter gave a cackling laugh. “Like she said, welcome to the shitstorm, ladies and gentlemen.”

  BK> This isn’t good.

  JN> Tell me about it. We need to find proof or otherwise of a refinement operation. These poor bastards on RRT Alpha have been dumped on.

  BK> We could order them back to the SC Givens and deal with any crap from Admiral Jacks later?

  JN> Tempting. It’ll make our job a lot harder if they leave. How’s about we handle this fast and withdraw in a group?

  BK> Sounds like a plan. What’s your take on this terrorist thing?

  JN> Not convinced. There’s more going on than meets the eye.

  BK> Agreed. That 81.7% chance is beginning to look realistic.

  JN> Do you ever doubt yourself?

  BK> A topic for later.

  JN> This is going to require a certain amount of openness with the RRT. Think you can tap into the Estral security system and have a look into the lower levels without getting caught?

  BK> I never get caught.

  JN> Liar.

  BK> I can’t remote-link into the Estral systems the same way I can with the Space Corps gear. I’ll need to be at a terminal and hard-linked.

  JN> Fine. The alternative is that I take a look myself. Let’s speak to Lieutenant Mack and see if she knows a secluded spot where you can do your work.

  Keller ended the link. “Lieutenant Mack, I require uninterrupted access to an Estral terminal in order to access their security systems and remote monitoring tools.”

  “That’s easier said than done. They allow us to roam the upper levels, Lieutenant Keller, except there’re always shadows behind us.”

  “Big, grey shadows. With guns,” said Griffin.

  “And definitely no sense of humour,” added Fletcher.

  “I can deal with the shadows. How closely do they watch this room? Will they notice if you’re down on numbers?”

  Mack shrugged. “As long as we stay here, they don’t seem too interested. As soon as we leave this room, that’s when they start paying attention.”

  “That’s what I hoped you’d say. Where’s the closest terminal?”

  “There are plenty on this level.” Mack pointed towards the wall next to the door. There was a viewscreen fixed to the surface, along with a speaker unit and a flat, silvery rectangle a few inches square, which was the remote interface receptor.

  Keller had already spotted the panel. “I can’t plug into that one.” She eyed it up again. “I need something bigger – with a wide-bore interface.”

  Mack rubbed her finger along her lower lip. “I can’t think of anything like that here on Sub-5. I mean, there are a couple of stations not far from the eastern airlifts, but from memory they’re just bigger versions of this wall unit.” She raised her voice so that everyone else in RRT Alpha could hear. “Where’s the closest terminal with an interface socket?”

  “There’s definitely a load of them in Sub-2 where they monitor the bay doors,” said R2 Otto Spinks.

  “Along with a dozen Estral in attendance at all time,” said Mack. “Anywhere else?”

  “Sub-3 secondary comms room,” said Hunter. “I’ve only been in once. There were a couple of Estral, but it looked automated, so there may not be a round-the-clock shift. You’ll find what you need in there.”

  Keller nodded. “Sounds good. Is it hard to find?”

  Hunter waved an arm towards the ceiling. “Up there and along.”

  “Fine.” Keller looked towards Nation. “We should both go. Just in case.”

  Lieutenant Mack screwed up her face in surprise. “You want to go now?”

  “This situation isn’t going away.”

  “Point taken. They have a permanent guard on us. If you’re hoping to sneak out, it won’t be easy.”

  “We saw them already.” Nation gestured towards the anxious-looking members of RRT. “Someone needs to go out ahead of us. I don’t care what excuse you have to make.”

  “I’ll go,” said Griffin. He picked up a tablet from the table and pulled some kind of cylindrical micro-sniffer from his pocket. “Give me a chance to finish dressing.” His eyes searched for where he’d left his suit visor. Hunter held one out for him, which he took.

  “Thanks.” Griffin put the visor on top of his head, snapped it into the fastenings on the suit and pulled it down over his face. It was reflective and hid everything that was going on behind. “Just say the word. I’ll tell them I need to check out Sub-3 for contaminants.”

  “That’s perfect,” said Keller. “We’ll follow you to the comms room.”

  Mack suddenly understood. “You have stealth modules fitted,” she said in awe.

  “Not me,” said Keller, tapping the side of her head. “Psi. They won’t see a thing.”

  “Whoa a real Psi!” said Hunter. From the look on her face, she was preparing to spew out a dozen banal questions, with the most common one being can you read my mind?

  Keller was familiar with the expression and raised her hand. “Don’t.”

  Hunter closed her mouth.

  Griffin took it in his stride. “Do I need to do something specific to help?”

  Nation shook his head. “Act normal. The rest of you in here will need to come up with something convincing if the Estral start asking questions about us.”

  “And if they don’t believe what we tell them?”

  “Refer them to the terms of the peace treaty. We’re allowed to be here.”

  Lieutenant Mack wasn’t reassured, but her face hardened. “They’ve been taking the piss out of my team ever since we arrived. Screw the Estral.”

  It was the right attitude and Nation gave her a single nod of approval. “If the Estral threaten you, then they’ve escalated it beyond your remit. If that happens, return to the SC Givens and let Admiral Jacks deal with it.”

  “If they let us leave.”

  It was a genuine concern and Nation didn’t treat them like fools by pretending otherwise. If you joined the Space Corps, there was a decent chance you’d find yourself in a bad situation. RRT Alpha might not like it, but they were trained to deal with it.

  “RL Griffin, please lead on,” said Keller, indicating the door through which they’d entered. She put on her own visor and tapped into the RRT Alpha local comms network. There was no one in the channel at the moment apart from RL Griffin and the signal probably wouldn’t penetrate very far through the walls of the Isob-2 facility if they got separated.

  Nation dropped his visor onto a table and activated his stealth modules. He felt the Istoliar power cores in his chest thrum faintly and he disappeared from sight. There were only a handful of operatives in the Space Corps equipped with stealth augmentations and it was doubtful anyone in RRT Alpha had ever seen one in action. Their faces said everything.

  They had a similar lack of experience when it came to the Psi team.

  “Uh, I can still see you, ma’am,” said Griffin, staring directly at Keller.

  “You can, they can’t.”

  “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Go.”

  Griffin went. He swiped at the door panel. It took him two attempts to trigger it and he laughed nervously through the speaker on his visor. “Second time lucky,” he said when the door opened.

  BK> Here we go.

  JN> Hell, yeah.

  They followed RL Griffin into the passage outside.

  Chapter Six

  The passage was even gloomier than Nation remembered and a thickness to the air made everything indistinct. He ran a substance check and found nothing unexpected. His environmental augmentation unit was far more sensitive than that in a spacesuit visor, but he wasn’t convinced by the all-clear.

  The guards outside were quickly alert to the opening of the door. Two of them approached, blocking the corridor. A few metres away, the other Estral soldiers watched with unconcealed contempt.

  “Where are you going?” asked the taller of the two aliens.

  Griffin spoke with confidence. He was unarmed and dealing with semi-hostile aliens which were two feet taller and far stronger than he was, but his voice didn’t waver. “We have detected possible contaminants on Sub-3. I am going to look.”

  “You will stay in this room until you have clearance.”

  “No. As per the terms of our peace treaty, I will go now.”

  The Estral were intimidating and they stared at Griffin as though he was an insect they would prefer to crush. For a moment, it looked as if they’d push the matter.

  “You will move,” said Griffin.

  The Estral stepped aside to allow him past. “We will accompany you.”

  Griffin was evidently jumpy and finding it hard not to look over his shoulder. “Yeah, whatever,” he said, and walked between the soldiers. They fell in behind him, their gauss cannons held menacingly, like they’d been told to make the lives of RRT Alpha as stressful as possible.

  Nation followed afterwards, his stealth modules completely masking the sight and sound of his passing. Keller was two paces behind. Not once did the Estral turn in her direction – it was as though she wasn’t there.

  JN> Any problems?

  BK> They must have posted a few more guards after they brought us here. Not enough to make it too hard for me to fool them. How’s your power cell?

  JN> Power cells plural. Got plenty of juice.

  RL Griffin headed towards the airlifts, occasionally checking his diagnostic tablet and muttering under his breath. The Estral stayed with him, a few metres back and not speaking.

  Level Sub-5 was quiet. Keller listened carefully for sound and heard nothing whatsoever beyond that made by the Estral and RL Griffin. It was eerie – as though the entire facility was utterly deserted. There were signs of condensation on the grey walls which she couldn’t remember from the first time she’d come along here.