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The two security men salute as we walk through the opening gates, standing to attention with their laser carbines along the seams of their right leg their faces staring obediently into the middle distance. It's a position I learnt well when on garrison duty.

'Hurry up/ hisses the Colonel between tight lips when we're a few metres further down the tunnel. Walking next to him, I look over with a puzzled look. He notices my stare and glances down at his right hand before fixing his look ahead of him again. I surreptitiously look down and a lump appears in my throat when I realise an occasional droplet of blood is running down his wrist, gathering on his fingers and sporadically drip­ping to the floor. I glance back over my shoulder and luckily the two guards are still in their parade ground position, but it won't be long before one of them looks our way and sees the faint trail of blood on the metal flooring. We take the next quiet turning the first couple had some people in them, and break into a ran, sending Lorii ahead to check it out first. She comes back and guides us along a deserted route until we find an empty hab-complex. The floor is patterned with red and white triangular tiles, I guess the Typhons must really like tri­angles. The underground houses show signs of being in use, but no one seems to be around at the moment. Loron starts checking the twenty or so glass-panelled doors around the cir­cular communal area at the centre of the litde complex, and die third one he tries is unlocked.

'I remember the days when you could leave your door unlocked without fear/ jokes Lorii.

Hurrying through, we find ourselves in a dining chamber, a small kitchen area at one end. There's more tiling on the floors and walls, in two different shades of blue. The Colonel rips the intravenum from his arm and flings it into a waste grinder beside the small cooking stove.

'I thought these were supposed to seal up without the tube inserted!' the Colonel barks loudly at Gudmanz, who flinches from Schaeffer's anger.

'There must have been some flow-back from the rebel's hand/ he explains with his hands raised slighdy in a placating gesture. They were not designed for this kind of procedure, please remember/

The Colonel calms down slighdy and we nose around the hab-pen. There are two small bedrooms off the living space, and they have their own ablutions area, complete with a basin and bathtub.

'Lucky bastards/ I say to Striden as he splashes cold water over his face. 'My barracks were never like this/

These are not barracks, Kage/ I hear the Colonel correct me from the front chamber. The second and third rings are the fac­tory areas. This is where die civilians live/

'Civilians?' says Lorii, popping her head round one of the bedroom doors, a dark red floppy felt hat on her head.

"Yes, civilians/ repeats the Colonel. This is the capital city of Typhos Prime, it is not just a fortress. And take that stupid thing off!'

Lorii disappears again, muttering something about the hat suiting her. Loron, who's by the front door keeping watch, gives an urgent hiss.

'Someone's coming!' he whispers, backing away from the glass panel.

When a figure appears right outside the door, we bundle into one of the bedrooms, while the Colonel peers out through the living space. I can hear the front door opening and closing and die Colonel ducks back inside, face screwed up in consterna­tion. It's strange to note how much more alive he seems to have become since we got inside Coritanoram. It's like this is the only thing he lives for. Perhaps it is.

The door to the bedroom opens and a plump, middle-aged woman steps in. Quick as a flash, Kronin grabs her from behind the door, clamping a bony hand across her mouth.

'And the Emperor sayeth that the meek and silent shall be rewarded/ he whispers gently into her ear. Her eyes are rolling left and right, looking at the strangers in her bedroom, terror in her mad glances.

4Vhat the frag do we do with her?' I ask the Colonel, as Rronin leads her over to the bed. He puts a finger to his lips and she nods understanding, and he lets her go. She gives a fearful whimper but doesn't scream.

We can't take her with us, and she'll be discovered if we leave her here/ says Lorii, eyeing our captive with a frown.

"You can't just kill her!' Striden exclaims, stepping protec­tively between the Colonel and the woman.

'She's already dead/ Gudmanz says quiedy in his grating voice. The Colonel looks at me and gives a slight nod. With his attention fixed on die Colonel, Striden doesn't see me cross to the side of the bed. The woman is also staring at the Colonel, probably wondering why a security officer is in her home.

I lean across die bed and before die woman knows what's happening I grab her diroat in bodi hands. She gives a stifled cry, and lashes out blindly, her fingernails clawing at my face. She writhes and squirms as I squeeze tighter, her eyes locking on mine, alternating looks of pleading and anger. I feel some­one grabbing at my shoulders, Striden shouting something in my ear, but my whole universe is just me and the woman. Her thrashing grows sluggish and her arms drop to the bedclothes, which have been rucked up around her widi her struggling. Witii a final effort I squeeze the life out of her, her dead eyes looking at me with a mixture of confusion and accusation. I feel someone dragging die Navy lieutenant off my back, and I let go of her diroat slowly. I look down at her pleasant face, purple from die choking now, and I don't feel anything. No guilt or remorse.

Inside, another human part of me seems to die.

That was too extreme/ Loron says with a doubtful look, as I pull myself off the bed.

'Like Gudmanz said, she's already dead/ I tell them. 'They're all dead if we succeed, all three million of diem/

'What?' asks Lorii, walking over to the bed and closing the dead woman's eyes with her fingertips.

'We're not going to shut down the plasma reactors, are we, Colonel?' I say, turning to face Schaeffer.

'No/ he says simply, shaking his head.

'I'm not a tech-priest, but the hive I'm from ran on plasma reactors/ I tell them, flopping down onto a plastic chair in front of what looks to be a dressing table. 'Once diey start, you don't shut them down, it's a self-fuelling process. But you can make diem overload/

We're going to overload one of the plasma reactors?' asks Loron, turning on Gudmanz and die Colonel, who are stand­ing by the door.

'All diree of diem, actually/ replies Gudmanz. They are omaphagically linked, if one of them fails, diey all fail/

'Call me stupid/ says Lorii, sitting on the edge of the bed, 'but I still don't tze where this is going. We kill the power by over­loading the reactors, not shutting them down, so what?'

Gudmanz sighs heavily and lowers himself onto die bed next to Lorii, weariness in every movement.

'Let me try to explain in terms you might understand/ he says, looking at all of us in turn. 'A plasma reactor is, in essence, a miniature star captured inside graviometric and electromag­netic force walls. If you remove the Machine God's blessing from those shields, the star goes into a chain reaction, resulting ultimately in detonation. Three plasma reactors fuelling each odier's chain reactions will create an explosion roughly sixty kilometres in every direction/

'Nothing but ash will be left/ adds the Colonel, 'and at the heart, not even the ash will survive/

'Sounds like an extreme way to win a war/ offers Striden, who's not calmed down at all.

'It has to be done diis way. I will not tell you any more/ the Colonel says insistently. 'We must get moving, I want to find anodier terminal, so mat Gudmanz can check what the security teams are doing. I expert at least one body has been found by now, and I want to know if they suspect any kind of enemy infiltration. We will have to proceed even more carefully/

About half an hour later and we're walking along what appears to be a main thoroughfare across the factory area. Massive shut­tered gateways fill one wall, indicating closed sites, to provide workers for the munitions works, I suspect. The ceiling and walls here are brick-lined rather than metal, but die now-famil­iar Typhon fondness for different colours in geometric patterns