“The fuck?” Kirsten Watts said quietly.
“The transmission ends with a power drop,” the Lieutenant continued. “Remote connections confirm the power was only out for a few minutes. As far as anyone can tell, the whole operation is still green. Except now there’s no response to hails and no cameras anywhere inside the station are working.”
“So they’re sending us in,” Charlie Finlay said.
Capstan pointed one finger at the tall, burly marine. “That’s right.”
Finlay grinned, his teeth like Capstan’s, even brighter against sun-tanned skin. Wisps of blond hair poked from under the front edge of his helmet, an affectation that never failed to annoy Collins. “Cool,” Finlay said in a low growl.
Collins scanned his squad mates, all buzzing with the excitement of a job about to start. He buzzed along with them, always keen for action, though the image of that sweating, staring guy with blood on his teeth gave him pause. But what threat were scientists to this team?
Red lights flashed and a siren wailed. “Ten seconds,” Daisy said calmly.
“Here we go, my flowers!” Capstan shouted as he jogged to his rack and strapped in.
The dropship detached and fell for Calliope. The display up front showed the battlecruiser disappearing away from them, then space folded around it as it jumped away to sit far from the gravitational pull of the system and await the hail to pick them up again. Collins dumped a little pick-me-up into his blood as Daisy guided them in.
“Locked and docked,” Daisy said. “Pressures equalised. You’re good to go.”
“Keep the engines ticking,” Capstan said. “In case we need to facilitate a quick exit.”
“I’ll be ready,” the dropship replied.
The Lieutenant moved to the hatch. “Form up.”
The squad unbuckled and arranged themselves. Capstan took the lead, flanked by Hayashi and Finlay. Behind them were Alex Lau and Malik, followed by Henna Sterns and Collins. Watts, the medic, brought up the rear.
“All comms to closed group,” Capstan said. “Inter-squad hails only, and keep those to a minimum. Rebreathers on.”
Full face masks slipped from their helmets and joined seamlessly to their battlesuits. As soon as the toughened flexiglass was down, Collins felt the familiar tightening of his fatigues, every tiny gap closing, contained tight against even the hint of microbial attack. The flex-armour plates in the super-tough fabric swelled and shifted into place, a form-fitting carapace with micro-gyro strength and movement assistance. He felt safe in the body-hugging outfit, the familiar weight of his pack, ammo and weapons pressing down on him, the air in his helmet lightly scented with ocean salt as it passed through the suit’s filtration system.
“Move out!” Capstan barked.
The hatch irised open and they jogged into the docking corridor of the scientific station. Lights were on, everything appeared normal at first glance.
“Check the map,” Capstan said, and floor plans of the station appeared to each of them at a virtual distance of about thirty centimetres along with the rest of their HUD data. Each squad member was marked by name and a glowing icon. “I’m taking Hayashi and Finlay to the location of the last transmission, which is the engineering and mech bay. At the end is a vehicle bay for EVAC, so we’ll account for assets there too.” He highlighted the area off to one side of the sprawling habitat.
“Big fucking place for twenty scientists,” Lau said.
“They intended it to house a lot more once mining commenced,” Capstan said. “So it’s going to take a while to cover everything.” He zoomed out. “Malik, Lau, you two head north and start checking each of the sleeping quarters and lounges.” He blipped a collection of about two dozen rooms along the northern edge of the centre. “Report as you go. Then work your way back towards the Command and Control centre, where we’ll all regroup.” A central room blinked.
“Hai,” Lau said and peeled off, Malik jogging alongside.
“Sterns, Collins and Watts, you three need to go west and search the labs.” A collection of six large rooms flashed three times.
Without waiting for a reply, Capstan hustled away to the right, with Hayashi and Finlay on his heels. Collins turned to his companions. “Ladies, after you.” He gestured to his left.
Watts laughed. “Fuck you, soldier.”
“I’ll take point,” Sterns said. “You two can enjoy my ass as we go.”
Collins grinned. He most certainly would. And so would Watts for that matter. Though bonds throughout their squad were tighter than family, it was Henna who touched him most deeply, and he knew he was not alone. Sterns was a little bit mother and a little bit lover to most of them. And probably the most deadly when shit went down.
Watts nudged him with her rifle butt. “Wipe the grin off and focus, dickwad.”
Collins winked at her. “I’ll bring up the rear.”
“Sure you will.”
They moved forward, heavy assault rifles cradled ready, scanning as they went.
“It’s too quiet,” Sterns said.
“We know they’re here somewhere,” Collins said.
The corridor led to a large double door that hissed open as they approached. A lab lay beyond, all manner of survey equipment and data stations. Lights flashed, information rolled through holo-displays, everything looked normal. Except for the lack of surveyors. Collins approached one desk and leaned over to look at a coffee mug, still half full with black liquid. He blinked up his helmet scanner and it confirmed filter coffee, now long cold.
Watts gestured to a series of large tanks along one side. “What the fuck are they doing in a mining survey station?”
“What are they?” Collins asked. Pale blue liquid rippled in each one, shimmering under bright lights embedded in the top. Each could easily fit three large men.
“Uterotanks,” Watts said, eyebrows knitted. When the others gave her blank looks, she said, “Breeding tanks.”
“For what?”
The medic shrugged. “No idea. But I’ve never seen them that big before.”
“Well, doesn’t that just bode all kinds of good,” Sterns said. “Let’s spread out, search the room.”
They moved apart, helmet scanners processing reams of data as they let their eyes rove for anything that might be a clue.
“Here,” Watts said. She pointed with the barrel of her weapon.
A chair was pushed out from under a desk, the seat and the floor around it smeared with blood. Scarlet drops sprayed across the desk and holo emitters. Watts stood back, hands raised as though framing up a photograph. They waited while she used her scans, then she said, “Best guess is a heavy blow to the back of the head, then another across the face.” She mimed the actions, indicating the direction of blood spatter. “The victim fell here and was dragged a short way.” The smears ended only a metre or so from the desk.
“Then what?” Sterns asked.
Watts shrugged.
“Picked up and carried off?” Collins suggested, his stomach tight.
“Maybe,” Watts said. “But there’s no more blood. Someone doesn’t just stop bleeding when they’re carried.”
“Maybe they got wrapped up.”
“Again here,” Sterns said from across the room.
A similar pattern covered more equipment.
“When I was growing up,” Sterns said, “my father used to tell this story about the draugen. It was an old-fashioned monster story, you know, a kind of Norwegian ghost or bogeyman. Bullshit designed to scare us. He used to say, ‘Henna, if you don’t behave, the draugen will come to get you!’ I always thought that was an asshole way to make your kids do the right thing.”
Collins had seen Henna take out an enemy squad single-handed while he was close to bleeding out. Then she had carried him back in. But in that moment he felt strangely protective of her.