With immense care, Gabriel placed the blade under the jumper’s helmet, and pressed against the chin. The blade sliced cleanly through the material, giving off only a faint whining sound with no smoke and no signs of heat or plasma scouring. The sword was almost certainly based on xenotechnology; in fact, it might even be an actual piece of xenotech. Once Gabriel had sliced clean through the jumper’s helmet, he discarded the faceplate on the ground.
What he saw underneath disgusted him.
The jumper’s androgynous face bore the marks of extensive cybernetic modification to the point that ‘he’ was barely recognisable as Human. His skin was a normal colour, but there were glowing signs of circuitry just visible underneath. His cybernetic eyes turned to regard Gabriel, and the corners of his lips curled into a grotesque smile.
“You took off my arm.” The jumper rasped in an electronically enhanced voice.
“You took off my combat claws.” Gabriel replied through his helmet speakers.
“And now you want to know the truth about this place.” The jumper surmised with a leering grin, “Otherwise you would have killed me on the spot.”
“How long has this facility been experimenting with xenotechnology?” Gabriel asked, deactivating the sword and laying it to one side.
“Five years.” The prisoner replied.
“How long has J.E. Co. been smuggling xenotech and from where?” Gabriel asked.
“They didn’t smuggle anything in,” the prisoner answered, “it was already here.”
“What does that mean?” Gabriel asked with narrowed eyes.
“It means exactly that,” the prisoner explained, “the Temple was already here. This facility was built specifically to learn its secrets.”
“What is the temple?”
The prisoner’s eyes lit up, literally. A blue glow from inside his pupils illuminated the circuitry inside his bionic eyes.
“You have to see it for yourselves.”
“I asked you a question,” Gabriel warned, drawing his knife, “What is the temple?”
“No amount of pain will cause me to give you a different answer,” the prisoner replied, “Besides, I am volunteering all of this information to you.”
“I’ll ask you one last time.” Said Gabriel menacingly, flicking the hilt-switch to flash-heat the blade of his knife, “what is the nature of the temple?”
“It is far beyond the ability of mere Humans to comprehend, even I am not worthy to be enlightened with most of its secrets,” the prisoner replied, unmoved by Gabriel’s threats, “but it is alien in origin. You have to see it for yourselves to appreciate its glory.”
The prisoner's words and expression were filled with sincere awe. This was not a rational POW resisting interrogation, this was a fanatic who did not care to save himself and practically dared Gabriel to venture into the ‘temple’.
“Why has there been so little resistance?” Gabriel continued his interrogation.
“Has the challenge been insufficient to satiate your lust for battle?” the prisoner asked.
Gabriel’s already thin patience wore out, and he decided to test just how indifferent to physical agony the captive really was.
He took the prisoner’s remaining hand – pausing briefly to note how baby-sized it was – then he pressed the flash-heated blade of his knife against the wrist, slicing clean through the flesh and cauterising the wound in one go. The prisoner inhaled calmly then exhaled with relief, as though he were relaxing in a hot-tub instead of having his hand amputated.
“Pain sensation has been dulled to the point of triviality,” the prisoner explained with a grotesque smile on his face, “the flesh’s loss is the spirit’s gain. It is of no consequence to those of us who have been enlightened.”
Gabriel had performed countless field interrogations on subjects who resisted the pain as best they could before finally breaking. But he had never encountered a subject who seemed to actually enjoy it, let alone someone who calmly spouted pseudo-spiritualist nonsense to explain why they didn’t mind the pain.
“You’ve been trying to lure us deeper into this place ever since we arrived.” Gabriel pressed, deactivating his combat knife and returning it to its sheath, “I want to know why.”
“I have already given you the answer to your question, DNI,” the prisoner responded, “We want you to see the glory of the Temple for yourselves.”
“Where is the entrance to the ‘temple’?” Gabriel asked.
“At the far end of the laboratories you will find an elevator that will take you down to the Temple entrance.” the prisoner replied obligingly, “the access code is 52133. No need to take my hand for biometric clearance.”
The prisoner’s imperviousness to torture meant that he didn’t have to give away anything. He was volunteering this information – whether freely or as part of a larger plan – to goad Gabriel into leading his squad into an obvious trap. Worst of all, Gabriel had no choice but to take the bait being offered because the mission objective was inside the trap.
Furthermore, given what they now knew about this enemy, Ogilvy was almost certainly dead or worse. The squad had been banking on his armour to keep him alive and safe, but their crazed enemy had technology that could cut through even the toughest materials. Judging by the enhancements given to the mobility platform pilot and the jumpers, it was almost certain that something similar had been done to Ogilvy.
In any case, the prisoner was of no further use.
“Now that you have no further use for me,” the prisoner said, pre-empting Gabriel’s thoughts, “you probably plan to kill me.”
“Do you fear death?” Gabriel asked with an undertone of menace.
“No,” the prisoner answered confidently, “at worst, I will be brought back with steel to replace the flesh you cut away, and at best, I will leave this material world completely.”
Gabriel drew his gun.
“No need for that.” the prisoner said.
Suddenly, his head snapped back violently and the cybernetic light in his eyes faded to black as he passed away. The prisoner lay limp and lifeless in his restraints, like a partially amputated crash dummy.
Gabriel didn’t trust this enemy to stay dead; he set his weapon to a low-powered single shot and fired, aiming between the chin and the Adam’s apple. The bullet travelled through the roof of the mouth and into the deceased target’s brain, spattering the back wall with blood, brain matter, and bits of neurocircuitry.
Gabriel returned to the squad.
“We have good news and strange news,” Bale told Gabriel as he approached.
“Same here,” Gabriel replied, “you first.”
“The good news is that there’s a way to get Doran out of here without backtracking all the way back to the loading bay.” Cato said, tapping a few keys on an interface panel.
An entire section of the wall opened up, revealing an entry point into an automated cargo conveyor system, complete with empty storage boxes for transporting medical samples and equipment. There was even an unused casket for transporting corpses.
“This entire facility is serviced by an automated logistical transport system,” Cato explained, “supplies are brought in, and packages are sent out. That automated freight hauler we encountered earlier is part of the same system.”
“So if we put Doran in one of these caskets, we can send him to safety?” Gabriel asked.
“Exactly,” Cato answered, “I can adjust the life support systems in his suit for the trip. His transponder should also make sure the DNI picks him up.”
“Good, get ready to move him.” Gabriel ordered.
Cato nodded and started preparing Doran for medical transport.