Maxwell closed his eyes for a moment. “So, the controller will send a comm through your pack to one of the proxy hubs, and when it receives confirmation that the Marauder is still under HF military control, it’ll allow us access?”

  “Yes, sir. The confirmation request will actually be routed through the warship’s comms. Apparently, it’s encrypted in a way that—”

  “How long?” said Maxwell. He wasn’t interested in the full explanation.

  “The nearest proxy is twelve hours comms travel from here. Plus another twelve hours for the confirmation to return.”

  “And that proxy will definitely handle the request?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Well isn’t this just a steaming heap of shit?” said Maxwell.

  “I haven’t told you it all yet, Sergeant. We’re ordered to stay on the ground and watch the hardware.”

  “That’s what the Marauder is here for.”

  “Captain Grisham isn’t happy about the situation,” said Barkley. “He’s being careful, that’s all.”

  “It’s more than that,” said Maxwell, as the wheels in his brain turned. “None of us are saying it, because we don’t want to think about the possibilities, but these crazies here on Xaros managed to contact a species that isn’t the Kijol. Captain Grisham believes there’s a chance he might lose his warship before he can wipe out the hardware in the compound. Or at least, he doesn’t want his hands tied by having to park his warship nearby.”

  “Meaning we get to stay here and blow this controller and the data array to pieces if anything happens to the Marauder,” said Chau.

  “That’s what it sounds like,” said Maxwell.

  “If another species came to Xaros, why did they abandon the compound?” asked Diaz.

  “Who’s to say they abandoned it?” asked Maxwell. “What if they withdrew when the Marauder arrived, in order to gauge how much of a threat it was?”

  “If you’re right about that, we’d best hope this other species thinks we’re too much of a bite to chew,” said Lowe.

  “Until they make up their minds about that, we’re stuck here wondering what’s going to happen,” said Fine. “Assuming we aren’t simply getting ourselves worked up over a security breaker that might have come out of a Kijol factory anyway.”

  The soldiers were worried – Maxwell could see it in their faces, and doubtless they could read the same in his own features.

  What had seemed like a potentially easy mission at the beginning had become vastly more threatening. Maxwell knew the Kijol and he knew how to fight them. If something else had arrived on the planet – a something which might have killed those people in the storage prefab – then he had no idea what he was up against.

  Maxwell cursed the vagaries of fortune and readied himself for a long night.

  Chapter Fourteen

  “It’ll be getting dark outside soon,” said Lyles on the open channel. She was carrying one end of a desk, while Barkley had the other. Having manoeuvred it into position, they overturned it with a crash.

  “That’s what happens at night, Private,” said Corporal Fine. “Darkness comes.”

  “Less than an hour and I reckon there’ll be no light at all,” Lyles continued.

  Maxwell let the soldiers talk. They were in the open plan area of structure B-22, a few looking more relaxed than earlier, but most of them still on edge. For the sake of doing something, Maxwell had ordered the soldiers to build makeshift barricades using the desks. The furniture was solid enough and would stop a gauss slug, though it wouldn’t be much use against explosives.

  “Couldn’t we just blow the controller and the array and pretend it was another one of those accidents I heard you were talking about, Sergeant?” asked Lowe. He was crouched behind a desk at the northern end of the space, where he could easily fire his shoulder launcher along the corridor in either direction.

  “I’d have a hard time explaining such a monumental screwup, Private,” said Maxwell. “Besides, I’m sure you’ve heard about something called duty before. Or do you need lessons?”

  “I think I can remember the classes,” said Lowe. He shrugged. “I could say I tripped and this launcher went off in my hands.”

  Lowe was one of the best rocket soldiers in the HF, but he could talk some crap at times.

  “How about I shoot you dead and say my rifle went off in my hands?” asked Maxwell.

  He checked the time on his HUD. Setting up the barricades wouldn’t take much longer, and once that was done, he could move onto the next step in his preparations.

  The soldiers had been well-rested before the mission commenced and they could stay awake all night if necessary, though at a cost of some combat alertness and impaired reactions as the hours passed. By tomorrow afternoon, the squads would be far less effective as a fighting unit if they hadn’t slept by then. It seemed best to give them a chance at shuteye tonight and have them fresh.

  “Corporal Fine, when you searched this building, did you find any sleeping quarters?” asked Maxwell. “We could take a few mattresses and bring them here.”

  “No, Sergeant – it’s all offices and storage.”

  “In that case, I’ll take Squad A over to accommodation block B-32 and we’ll haul back some mattresses,” said Maxwell. “While there’s enough light.”

  In truth, he wanted to stretch his legs and also to see what it was like outside with his own eyes.

  Maxwell led the four soldiers into the corner storage room and then into the airlock.

  A touch on the panel opened the door and it was darker outside than Maxwell had expected. While he could see the nearby buildings, it was noticeably gloomy. The temperature had dropped too, and the sounds of the jungle seemed more prominent, though he suspected that was no more than his imagination at play. Insects large and small sped through the air or swirled densely in clouds.

  “Is this a good idea, Sergeant?” asked Fleming.

  “Do you want to sleep on the floor?”

  “Not much.”

  “In which case this is a damned good idea.” Maxwell grunted. “Darkness comes faster on Xaros than I expected.”

  The entrance to Block B-32 was only twenty metres away, so he didn’t abort the plan. It wouldn’t take long anyway. Hurrying across the space between the structures, Maxwell activated the door to B-32 and entered the airlock. Moments later, and having turned on the lights, he passed through the inner door and entered the prefab’s central communal area. Nothing about the space was unusual and, if he hadn’t known differently, Maxwell could have been in the very first accommodation block he explored in the compound.

  “Let’s go this way,” he said, pointing left.

  The squad entered a passage and from there, they entered each of the nearest rooms in turn, pulling out the mattresses and dropping them on the corridor floor in preparation to carry them to B-22.

  “Five should do it,” said Maxwell.

  The mattresses were more luxurious than he was used to, and that made them heavier. They were bulky too, and, for ease, needed two people to lift them.

  “Barkley, you and Valerio carry that one,” said Maxwell. He slung his rifle. “I’ll take this one here. Private Fleming - you and Vaughan keep watch.”

  “Yes, sir,” said Fleming. “We’re going to need three trips.”

  “If that’s what it takes,” said Maxwell.

  Stooping low, Maxwell lifted his mattress. By stretching out his arms, he could grip it on both edges and if he walked sideways, he could see where he was going. The mattress smelled of horsehair and wool and he guessed each one would have cost him two weeks’ wages. Evidently, the church’s flock discovered serenity through both mental harmony with the aliens of the universe and by means of a good night’s sleep.

  Fleming went in front and Maxwell followed him into the airlock, with the rest of Squad A coming after.

  “Open the door,” Maxwell instructed.

  “Opening the door,” Fleming confirmed.

  The squad hurried across to B-22 and dumped the two mattresses in the storage room beyond the airlock.

  “Let’s bring the other three over,” said Maxwell. “Then we’ll find someplace to set them up for sleeping.”

  The soldiers returned to B-32 and Maxwell picked up another mattress. Following Fleming, he returned to the airlock. By now he was feeling the strain of the added gravity, though he didn’t let on.

  Although only a short time had passed, it was already appreciably darker outside and Maxwell squinted along the alley between the two buildings as he laboured with the mattress.

  A shadow, or a hint of a shadow appeared in the distance. For a moment, it didn’t move so that it merged into the other shadows cast by one of the accommodation structures. Then, it moved, darting with tremendous speed to the building opposite.

  Straightaway, Maxwell threw down his mattress and reached for his gun. “Movement,” he said.

  “I didn’t see anything,” said Fleming, nevertheless aiming his gun in the direction Maxwell was facing.

  “I think I might have seen it too,” said Lowe.

  “I’m checking with the Marauder,” said Barkley. A few seconds later, he spoke again. “The warship’s sensors detect no movement within the compound, Sergeant. It’s only us.”

  “What did you see, Private Lowe?” asked Maxwell.

  “I was mostly looking at that door over there, Sergeant, but I could have sworn something moved at the edge of my eye.”

  “One false alarm happens, but from you, me and Private Lyles?” said Maxwell, shaking his head. He didn’t want to pick up the mattress again, and he felt suddenly exposed standing here in the alley.

  “Should I speak to Lieutenant Bishop again, Sergeant?” asked Barkley.

  “Go ahead,” said Maxwell. He couldn’t shake the certainty that he’d seen something, but his faith in the Marauder’s sensor tech made him doubt his own eyes. What he didn’t doubt was the feeling deep in his guts that he and his soldiers were in danger.

  “Leave these mattresses – get into that airlock over there,” he said.

  The soldiers sprinted into the B-22 airlock and Maxwell closed the outer door.

  “Lieutenant Bishop confirms there’s nothing in the compound, Sergeant,” said Barkley. “The warship’s sensors have a straight-down view and there’s no place to hide.”

  Maxwell wasn’t the kind to get jumpy and he felt an irresistible urge to go outside and take another look, even if it was just to confront his fears before they dug their claws in too deep.

  “Those mattresses aren’t going to carry themselves,” he said angrily, thumping his palm onto the access panel and quickly returning that same hand to his gauss rifle.

  For several seconds, Maxwell stood motionless in the airlock, watching and listening. He heard no sounds other than those of the jungle. Peering outside, Maxwell checked in both directions.

  “Nothing,” he said. It had become almost a matter of pride that he bring back those mattresses and Maxwell slung his rifle across his shoulder. “Cover me while I carry these inside.”

  He walked quickly to the nearest mattress, picked it up with a grunt of effort and carried it to the storage room in B-22. After that, he returned for the fourth.

  “What about the last mattress?” asked Fleming, as Maxwell struggled through the airlock.

  “Screw it,” he said. “We’ve got enough.”

  Having deposited his burden in the storage room. Maxwell re-entered the airlock and stood at the entrance for a time.

  “You’re convinced you saw something,” said Valerio.

  Maxwell nodded, his attention still outside. “My eyes never play tricks on me.”

  He glanced at the others. They wanted to believe, because Maxwell rarely made a wrong call. At the same time, the soldiers trusted the cold, hard technology installed on the Marauder. And they certainly didn’t want to deal with the thought that something might be out there in the shadows of the compound.

  Barkley received an inbound comm and he began talking, his eyes wide.

  “Sergeant, one of the main doors on that central prefab just opened. The Marauder’s sensors picked it up.”

  “Did anything go in or come out?” asked Maxwell, wondering if he and his soldiers had missed something during the earlier search.

  “No, sir,” said Barkley. “The door opened and it’s still open.”

  “Can the Marauder see inside?”

  “Not without significant repositioning.”

  “Which Captain Grisham isn’t about to do,” said Maxwell.

  “We’re the boots on the ground, sir. The warship has detected no threats.”

  Maxwell cursed. “This whole situation is a damned threat!”

  He took a calming breath and wondered if he should speak directly to Captain Grisham and request that the Marauder approach to a much lower altitude. Of course, that would make it sound as if Maxwell couldn’t handle a few shadows and a door that opened by itself.

  “Are we going to check it out, Sergeant?” asked Fleming.

  Maxwell didn’t want to say yes. His internal alarm bells were ringing and he usually listened to them. On the other hand, something terrible had happened at the compound and it was his duty to find out what it was.

  “Yes, we’re checking it out,” he said.

  “Maybe we could wait until morning,” said Lowe.

  Maxwell stared up at the darkening sky. He could probably use the fading light as an excuse to take cover for the night, but that wasn’t his way.

  “We can make it to the main prefab in five minutes,” he said. Maxwell spoke on the open comms. “Have you been following this, Corporal Fine?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I want you to hold where you are with Squad B. Something’s interested in that hardware and it’s our responsibility to keep it guarded.”

  “We’ll stay right here, Sergeant.”

  Wondering if he was making the right decision, Maxwell led his soldiers at a fast pace towards the central prefab. He planned to take one look inside the storage area and that was it. If nothing was different to how it was before, he’d return straightaway to B-22 without initiating any kind of extended search.

  Maxwell and his soldiers hurried through the deepening gloom.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The high walls of the central prefab seemed menacing now, in a way they hadn’t before, their shadows longer and darker. Maxwell was reminded of pictures he’d seen of old castles upon high hills, where evil men had lived and spread fear through the villages below.

  Holding his squad in place between two of the accommodation blocks, Maxwell studied the building for a time, watching for signs of anything he might not like. The open door – still open, according to Lieutenant Bishop – was in the south wall and currently hidden from Maxwell’s west-east view.

  “Let’s go,” he said, at last.

  Slipping out from the alley between the accommodation units, Maxwell went south, sticking close to the wall of the north-south module, his eyes darting between the main prefab and the way ahead.

  Soon, he reached the southern area of the clear space around the target building, and he checked once behind to make sure his soldiers were close by.

  “Like we were told, the door is open,” said Maxwell, indicating the dark square in the wall about 150 metres away.

  “No way to see inside from here,” said Fleming.

  Maxwell moved again, heading east along the southern edge of the open area which surrounded the central prefab. The feeling of threat hadn’t diminished and he wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  It wasn’t long before the squad were directly south of the open door, and Maxwell stood with his back to the wall of an accommodation building while he stared into the interior. The sensor in his suit helmet was designed to detect heat and movement, and it could enhance darkness, but all Maxwell could see in the prefab was a jumble of shapes. Corpses, just where he’d left them.

  “I can’t see shit,” said Fleming.

  “No movement,” said Lowe. “There’s nothing here.”

  “Something opened that door,” said Maxwell. “And it wasn’t caused by a hardware fault, before you say it.”

  The soldiers wanted to go, and he couldn’t blame them. Still, having made the decision to come here, Maxwell wasn’t leaving without at least taking a closer look into the storage bay.

  “Come on,” he said, pushing himself away from the wall and sprinting for the prefab wall to the left of the entrance.

  As he ran, Maxwell kept his attention on the darkness of the storage bay. Everything was as still as he’d have expected from a room full of dead bodies.

  At the prefab wall, he turned and watched the rest of his squad catch up. Once everyone was in place, Maxwell walked the last few metres to the bottom of the ramp leading into the bay. He peered inside, hoping the image quality from the helmet sensor would be better now that he was closer.

  “What can you see?” asked Fleming, his voice on the comms a loud whisper.

  Maxwell shook his head slowly. “I can’t make anything out.”

  “You’ll have to turn the lights on, Sergeant,” said Lowe.

  An angry response came to Maxwell’s tongue and he bit down on it. “Move up and keep watch,” he said. “I’m going inside.”

  Putting one hand on the sloped edge of the ramp, Maxwell climbed up. The scents of decay came to him and he thought they might be stronger than before, or maybe he was just imagining it.

  Suddenly, as he stood on the threshold of the bay, Maxwell felt a shiver of fear. He switched on his helmet flashlight and it stabbed into the near darkness. The beam of light cast a puddle of wan yellow, as if it were being crushed by the size of the bay. Maxwell directed it to where the closest bodies were lying, but the beam wouldn’t extend any deeper into the storage area.

  Cursing his hesitation, Maxwell forced his feet to move and he reached the button for the interior light in two long strides.