“No, Commander,” said Grisham. “We’re going to remain at ten thousand klicks. If the Kijol pay Xaros an unexpected visit, we’ll be harder to detect from here.”

  “And still close enough to do a fast pickup if needed,” said Deneuve. “I’m sure Sergeant Maxwell will enjoy the sights on the way down.”

  Seven minutes after the order went out, Maxwell contacted the bridge to advise that he and his squads were in the deployment vehicle and ready to depart.

  “Not bad,” said Adler. “I think that beats the previous record.”

  “Sergeant Cox managed it in six minutes thirty,” said Lopez, referring to a ground officer who’d once served on the Castigate. “However, I seem to recall he was doing a weapons inspection in the bay when he received the order.”

  “That’s enough,” said Grisham. He looked at the feeds again. “Lieutenant Bishop, pass on the order for Sergeant Maxwell to depart. Anything he wants to know, I can tell him on the comms while he’s on his way.”

  Having put things in motion, Grisham watched the sensors and asked himself what Maxwell and those soldiers would find on Xaros.

  Chapter Eight

  High-powered motors inside the launch chute fired with twin bass thumps and the Marauder’s lone deployment vehicle was hurled through the warship’s armour into the darkness of space. Sergeant Maxwell allowed the tiny vessel to continue its trajectory until it was a few kilometres from the Marauder, then he requested power from the engines and banked towards the planet far below.

  “I’ve received the coordinates from Lieutenant Lopez, sir,” said Private Ralf Barkley, in the seat adjacent. “Head towards them and we’ll be at the compound.”

  “Acknowledged,” said Maxwell.

  The deployment vessel’s cockpit was cramped, and his shoulders were up against Barkley on one side and Private Marco Fleming on the other. In front of him, the pilot’s console was cut down and basic, as if a flock of bean counters had pecked away at the bill of materials until only the bones of the carcass remained.

  All around the propulsion rumbled in a way that hinted at potential velocity, when the reality was low acceleration and a flat-out maximum of eight kilometres per second. Maxwell had always thought that life was too short for hatred, but these metal coffins were high up on his list of potential candidates.

  “Twenty minutes and we’ll enter the Xaros atmosphere,” said Fleming. “You’d think the Marauder would have dropped us off a little closer.”

  “In a hurry, Private?” asked Maxwell.

  “I want to get out of this tin can as much as you do, Sergeant.”

  Maxwell set the deployment vehicle on course and held the control joysticks in a loose grip. In the short time since exiting the Marauder, Barkley had been working on the sensors. The outcome was less than impressive.

  “The sensors on this shit-heap couldn’t spot my ass at a hundred paces,” said Barkley by way of explanation.

  From here, Xaros looked like a nice place to take a vacation and, had the Human Federation not been well-served for tourist hotspots that didn’t require more than a week’s travel in both directions – likely closer to three weeks each way on a low-multiple holiday spaceship – Maxwell was sure the planet would have been teeming with people soaking up the rays and drinking bright orange cocktails.

  “Lieutenant Bishop assures me there’s nothing to see,” said Maxwell. He thought about requesting a data link to the Marauder’s sensor feeds, but the transport’s sensors, bad as they were, would eventually start gathering a much more usable feed.

  “An empty compound with ten thousand people missing,” said Fleming. “And definitely no Kijol.”

  “That’s what Lieutenant Bishop said.”

  “So what’re we going to find?” asked Barkley.

  Maxwell glanced over his shoulder at the sound of his other squad members arguing over some shit or other in the passenger bay through the cockpit door.

  “There’ll be something,” said Maxwell, leaving the soldiers out back to settle matters for themselves. “There’s always something.”

  “You getting that feeling, Sergeant?” asked Barkley.

  “Maybe,” said Maxwell, not knowing exactly what he was expecting to find on Xaros.

  If the Kijol weren’t involved, maybe this mission would turn into something interesting, though upon reflection, it was more likely the planet’s inhabitants were all taking a midday nap.

  “I heard of suicide pacts happening before on fringe worlds,” said Fleming quietly.

  “Why would people want to sign up for something like that?” asked Barkley.

  Fleming shrugged. “Don’t ask me, since I’m hell-bent on living. I guess some leaders have smooth enough tongues that when they decide everyone’s gotta die, to bring about happiness or whatever the hell else sounds good enough to make people want to shoot themselves in the head, people will go right ahead and do it.”

  “Damn,” said Barkley. “You can count me out of that.”

  Maxwell let the soldiers talk. As it happened, he’d also heard about the mass suicides – there’d been a spate of them fifteen or twenty years ago – and he briefly wondered if the same thing had happened on Xaros. He experienced a flicker of anger and hoped that whatever had brought this mission here, it was something else.

  Anything else.

  The deployment vessel came gradually closer to Xaros and soon, Maxwell could make out the basic features of the target location. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, but there again he already knew that because of what Lieutenant Bishop had said to Barkley on the comms.

  “We’re going to set down on the landing pad,” said Maxwell. In theory, he could have set down anywhere, including on the roof of one of those structures, but on this occasion, he intended to conduct an organised sweep from one side of the compound to the other.

  “There’re plenty of buildings to search,” said Fleming.

  “Too many,” Maxwell said. “It’s going to take us a while.”

  He cursed inwardly. A thorough search would take longer than the available daylight hours and that would mean staying overnight on the ground or returning to the deployment vehicle and heading back to the Marauder, assuming Captain Grisham was agreeable. The decision could wait, and Maxwell didn’t spend time worrying about it.

  “We’ll enter the Xaros atmosphere in a couple of minutes, sir,” said Barkley.

  The deployment vehicle could withstand the heat, even at its maximum velocity, but Maxwell didn’t want to come in like a fireball, trailing smoke across the sky. While the Marauder’s sensors weren’t detecting any threats, he wasn’t about to paint a target on the transport’s hull. The trees surrounding the compound could easily be hiding a Kijol multi-launcher and Maxwell didn’t want to be dodging rockets if he could avoid it.

  “Slow and steady,” said Maxwell, reducing velocity.

  Soon, the deployment vessel descended into the Xaros atmosphere and the sky turned gradually from black into the deepest of blues. Unexpected turbulence shook the hull and made the engines rumble louder. Maxwell wasn’t concerned – these transports were designed to operate in conditions far worse than anything Xaros might throw its way.

  “We’re approaching from two hundred klicks south – right over the lake,” said Maxwell. “That’ll make it harder for anything in the trees to take a shot at us.”

  “I’d say that’s an ocean, sir.”

  “I’d say you’ve got point duty, Private Fleming.”

  “I meant to say it’s the most beautiful lake I’ve ever seen, Sergeant.”

  Maxwell dropped the transport at an oblique towards the blue-green water below. As the altitude decreased, the visibility into the compound became steadily reduced owing to the reduction in the sensors’ viewing angle.

  At five hundred metres, Maxwell stopped the descent and guided the shuttle north. A strong wind blew from the north-east, making the lake’s surface choppy. Waves were driven with the wind, though they appeared strangely glutinous – more like undulations on an oil spill than water being whipped up by the gusts. Overhead, the sky was a beautiful shade of blue and the golden disc of the sun shone down. Directly ahead, one of the Xaros moons hung suspended, a pale orb against the azure.

  “Something about that lake doesn’t look right,” said Barkley. He sat forward so that his face was near the screen, his eyes narrowed.

  “I noticed that too,” said Maxwell. He looked again, this time closely. “There’s something on the surface.”

  “Algae,” said Barkley as he figured out what it was. “The whole damned lake must be covered in it.”

  Maxwell nodded his agreement. He’d never seen the like before – the algae were almost transparent, though with hints of blues and greens that changed depending on the angle and distance in a way that was so close to natural that it had fooled his eyes until he’d focused on the sensor feed.

  “Those plants must have strangled the life out of this lake,” said Fleming. “I wonder how they came to be so dominant.”

  Maxwell didn’t offer a suggestion. In truth, he didn’t much care. This was nature in all its ruthless glory, and besides, he wasn’t planning on taking a swim.

  The distance between the transport and the compound fell and Maxwell watched carefully for threats, the algae already gone from his mind. The vessel’s nose gun could knock out ground-launched missiles, but it wasn’t a hundred percent reliable, and he didn’t want to find out if today was his lucky day.

  “Twenty klicks to target,” said Barkley. “The Marauder reports no identified threats.”

  “Would the warship’s sensors even see anything in those trees from ten thousand klicks?” asked Fleming.

  “Lieutenant Bishop says maybe.”

  Maxwell gave a humourless laugh. “That’s as good as a no.”

  The algae-choked lake changed suddenly to a lighter blue and he guessed the transport had passed over the edge of an underwater shelf, so the water was now much shallower. The way the algae changed its colour to reflect the depth caused Maxwell another flicker of interest, though it quickly faded.

  “There’s the compound,” said Barkley.

  The perimeter walls were ten metres high. A few of the structures within were taller, and they jutted above the upper edge of the wall. Maxwell estimated the compound was set back a couple of hundred metres from the lakeshore. Scrubby green plants and a thin pale beach separated the southern wall from the water.

  “I can see why people might want to come here,” said Fleming grudgingly. “Algae or no algae.”

  Maxwell grunted noncommittally. He’d lost count of how much leave he was due, but he could think of better ways to spend his time than lying on a beach all day.

  “Three klicks to target,” said Barkley.

  Holding the same velocity and altitude, Maxwell readied himself for the landing. The walls of the compound came up fast and the sensor viewing angle improved.

  “We’ve got of a sight of the compound now, sir,” said Barkley.

  “Anything?” asked Maxwell, preferring to keep his attention on the controls.

  “I can’t see behind some of the buildings, but the place looks deserted.”

  Maxwell reduced altitude and the shuttle swept over the water. Trees rose high in the background and to the east and west, while the compound prevented anything hiding in the jungle in a direct line behind the walls from targeting the shuttle.

  “Are we deploying at once, Sergeant, or are we having a flyover to see what we can see?”

  “We’re setting straight down,” said Maxwell firmly. He didn’t like the trees one bit.

  “I’ll let the squads know, sir,” said Barkley. He began speaking on the internal comms.

  Maxwell piloted the shuttle over the perimeter wall. He barely gave the compound buildings a glance and instead fixed his gaze on the landing pad. A couple of shuttles were already parked, like he’d been told, but there was plenty of room. He also noticed the five-by-four-metre frame of one of the main compound exits near the western edge of the pad, which had not been visible on the approach. The door was currently closed.

  “Here we go,” he said.

  The deployment vehicle’s landing legs creaked with the strain as Maxwell set it down on the edge of the landing pad closest to the habitation units.

  “Time to move,” he said, unclipping his harness and standing.

  It was a tight fit in the cockpit and Fleming exited first, grabbing his gauss rifle from the rack on the aft bulkhead as he headed into the passenger bay. After that went Barkley, while Maxwell squeezed through the narrow gap between the seats. A sharp tug was enough to break his rifle free of the magnetic field holding it onto the rack and Maxwell followed the others into the bay.

  The flank exit door was already open, and sunlight streamed into the transport’s interior. Maxwell had his helmet visor up and he could already feel the heat and humidity. One-by-one, the soldiers disappeared through the exit and then it was Maxwell’s turn. He didn’t hesitate and dropped the short distance to the ground.

  Already, Corporal Fine had most of the soldiers running for the nearest building three hundred metres away, while Private Chau and Private Vaughan, the latter prone with his XR repeater deployed on its tripod, crouched behind the transport’s landing legs and provided cover.

  In the moment before he got his own ass in gear, Maxwell’s senses were bombarded. The air was thick and heavy with the odours of hot concrete, rubber and vegetation. In the distance, birds called their alien song, shrill over the rumble of the transport’s still-active propulsion.

  The humidity was stifling and the hardwearing light grey polymer slabs which covered the natural ground seemed to reflect and intensify the heat, and it was these which gave off the stench of rubber Maxwell had noticed as he was exiting the shuttle. He knew he’d be sweating in moments, particularly given the increased gravity on Xaros. Pulling down the visor of his helmet brought him into the cocoon of the combat suit’s regulated interior.

  This was the start of the mission and Maxwell hoped it would be no worse than any other. He sprinted after the others.

  Chapter Nine

  The habitation units were hardly more than airlock-controlled windowless boxes, suitable for use almost anywhere. A standard module was fifty metres long, thirty wide and ten tall, configurable in the factory to accommodate dozens of people, or to fulfil other functions such as eating, security, comms, or whatever the intrepid off-worlders desired.

  Maxwell was breathing hard when he reached the flat wall of the closest unit. The others of his squad didn’t need micromanagement and they were already positioned at the corners left and right, watching carefully for movement.

  Over the next few seconds, Maxwell’s heartrate fell. The initial sprint was a good way to test the gravity and would help him understand the additional strains Xaros would place on his body.

  “No sign of life,” Corporal Fine reported on the comms.

  Maxwell ordered Vaughan and Chau out of cover, and then he headed along the building to where Fine was peering around the corner. Looking around, Maxwell saw other habitation units, with alleys between them.

  “It’d be easy to get lost in here,” said Fine. “The layout is too disorganised.”

  With a grunt of agreement, Maxwell watched for a moment longer. “Anything new from the Marauder, Private Barkley?” he asked.

  Barkley was nearby, with the squad comms booster on his back. The suit comms could reach way out into space, but sometimes it was good to have a little extra power to push a transmission through the walls of a building, or just to make it arrive at its destination a little quicker.

  “Nothing new, Sergeant,” Barkley confirmed.

  During the ride to Xaros, Maxwell had thought about his approach to the sweep and had requested for Lieutenant Lopez to create a topographical view of the base, with each structure assigned a number. That file he’d sent to every soldier.

  “Corporal Fine, you take Squad B and search that unit north. B-97,” he said, pointing at the prefab fifty or sixty metres away.

  “Yes, sir. B-97 it is,” said Fine.

  “Squad A, you’re coming with me.” Maxwell thumped his palm against the wall of the adjacent structure. “We’re taking a look in B-98 right here.”

  “What are our primary targets, sir?” asked Private Lyles.

  “Aside from the people who live here, we’re searching for a comms unit and the security controller for the base.” Maxwell indicated with his rifle towards the evil-looking repeater turret on the compound wall a few hundred metres away. “It’s important we find out if any of those guns discharged. There should be a data array somewhere as well – I’d like to check out the recordings from the base monitors.”

  The soldiers broke into their squads. Fine led Squad B towards their target building, while Maxwell led his own squad towards the nearby entrance to B-98.

  “It’s security locked,” said Private Barkley, pointing at the red light on the access panel.

  “We have the codes,” said Maxwell. He stared at the door for a moment. It was outlined by a metal frame and wide enough to allow people to enter and exit at the same time. “Searching for the interface.”

  The Human Federation didn’t want splinter groups setting up off-world fortresses using equipment provided to colonise unused planets, so access codes to the hardware were available to the military in cases where it was deemed necessary. This was one of those cases and every soldier on the mission had the compound access codes loaded into their suit computer.

  Maxwell’s suit linked to the habitation unit’s security system and he sent across the codes which were meant to open the door. The light on the access panel stayed red and the door remained shut.

  “Damnit,” he swore. “The codes aren’t working.”

  “Try them again, sir,” said Private Lowe.

  “Do you think I should inject them with a pretty please, this time, Private? Maybe that’ll work better.” Maxwell swore again and struck the door with the side of his fist in frustration. The alloy was thick, and it gave off hardly any noise. “Corporal Fine, we’re denied access to this building. Please report.”