Blink: Interdiction (Book 4)

30

Vass Juntaar died before Darien returned to Karpa Luna.

The damage done by the shrapnel bomb had been too much for the military surgeons at Karpa Luna to overcome, and in the end a mix of internal bleeding and blood poisoning from ruptured organs had killed Tundra's Squad leader.

Amber was on the firing range, trying to keep her mind off the cascade of events that had followed the attack on the Ravine asteroid cracker. Lances flew from her carbine, striking bullseye after bullseye in quick succession as she guided the barrel deftly from point to point. It barely took the edge off, not distracting her sufficiently to keep her mind occupied. She emptied the bandoleer and put the weapon down in disgust.

She didn't know how to feel. Part of her wanted to cry for another life pointlessly extinguished in this stupid war. Another part of her felt a sense of fury at Vass himself for his own stubbornness. Then she hated herself for even thinking such a thing. With conflicting emotions fizzling in the back of her mind she unloaded the empty bandoleer of lances from her carbine and flicked its safety catch on, hanging it across her chest from its strap. A heavy sigh slipped from her mouth.

At that moment the gentle knock of a knuckle on metal made her turn, and she found Hekket standing in the doorway. He managed a weak smile that she couldn't replicate.

"Is it time?" she asked.

Hekket nodded. "Everyone's getting geared."

A lead weight settled in the base of Amber's stomach. At Niamh's instruction the Blink operatives were forming a guard of honour to see Vass's body safely to the honour hall of the military base. It was a glorified morgue, she thought bitterly, a place where the fallen lurked in cold storage to await their long, silent journey home. She knew, deep down that it was the right thing to do, to send their comrade into the black with the respect her deserved, but somehow it still felt wrong.

She swallowed hard, her mouth twisting into an uncomfortable slanted line as she tried to think of something useful to say. In the end no suitable words reached her mouth and she just hung her head for a moment.

Together they walked in an uncomfortable silence through the hallways of the base, shoulders square and eyes down as they passed soldiers and support staff. Uneasy glances snagged on the pair as they passed by – word was clearly spreading of the high profile casualty that Blink had suffered.

When they arrived in the armoury they found several other operatives hurriedly dressing for the morbid occasion. Actual combat vests would be left behind, leaving crisply pressed and zipped up Blink-issue jackets. Amber saw more than one of her comrades polishing their carbine to a shine, but she didn't see any of Tundra squad's members present. They were probably already down at the medical centre, ready and waiting.

Giving Hekket's arm a reassuring squeeze, she stepped quickly over to her locker and followed the others' example. Shedding the baggy combat vest and carbine, she picked up the jacket of her casual fatigues and gave it a quick examination and a brush down. There were a couple of creases that she smoothed out as best she could before slipping it on and zipping it up, all the way up over her throat.

She winced, tugging at the tight collar to try and make it sit a little more comfortably. There wasn't any kind of formal dress uniform for Blink operatives – they did not stand on parade and did not attend diplomatic events. Here and now, however, she felt the same need to make a statement as the rest. Blink took care of its own, in life and death.

Smoothing down her uniform and tying her hair into a tight, straight ponytail, she picked up her carbine again, inspecting it for blemishes. Biting her lip, she scrubbed at the fingermarks on the barrel and stock with her sleeve, doing her best to leave the lightweight casing spotless before they performed their grim duty.