Blink: Phantom (Book 3)

16

They rendezvoused with Corporal Barker and a squad of the station's marines a level above the maintenance areas. Even here the security was light, a level largely dedicated to equipment storage formed of a honeycomb of narrow, block-like passages. Scattered all over the level were floor hatches leading down into the maintenance decks, filled with power conduits, climate control nodes, lighting circuitry and spare parts.

Barker approached them, flanked by six fully armed and armoured colonial marines. The others had their standard issue R-11 assault rifles, but Barker himself carried a hefty rectangular-barrelled shotgun.

"Flint," he said, inclining his head. "Seems like you brought us a pack of trouble."

"Don't remind me," Darien replied with a grimace.

"We're spread pretty thin – right now I'm all you get to cover maintenance."

"Try and keep the exits covered." He motioned towards the assembled Blink squads with a flick of his head. "We'll go in after him."

"You don't know he's down there," Barker pointed out.

Darien gave the burly marine a dubious look. "Well, where would you go if you were trying to hide from the entire station?"

Barker frowned but didn't argue the point.

He turned to his fellow operatives. Taggs' people looked less skittish than they might have: having already had one run in with Tannis Brock, Vandal's members knew what they were in for. Panther Squad were not so prepared. Their leader, a tall, dark-skinned individual named Bandle, looked impassive, but the five operatives behind him seemed like they hadn't quite wrapped their heads around what was going on.

"Okay, pull up your mappers," he told them. "We've got a lot of ground to cover. Panther, make your entry at access hatch G-13. Vandal, enter at R-4. We'll go in at A-9. That gives us a triangle. Use your local motion detectors; sweep every section as quickly as you can, running station-clockwise. Barker and the marines will keep a rolling patrol above the access hatches." He glanced back at them; Barker nodded his agreement. "I've said it before but I'll say it again: if you find our target do not engage alone. Mark him, stay with him and call for back up. He is incredibly dangerous."

The operatives gave him a low murmur of understanding.

"Alright then. Move out, and stay safe."

*

The maintenance decks were cold, cluttered and claustrophobic. More importantly, they were a tactician's nightmare. Even moving as fast as they dared – even with the portable motion trackers – Darien knew they were taking too long, having to stop and cover every corner, every shadow; every nook and cranny that might be hiding their quarry. It would have been child's play to set up an ambush on an unsuspecting unit. He could only hope that the other squads were taking similar precautions.

He moved up to a junction in the narrow maintenance passage, hugging his carbine close to his chest. Idas joined him, jackhammer primed and ready. He met the other operative's gaze, nodded once, then turned and aimed in one fluid motion.

"Clear," he said quietly. Idas then slipped past him to cover the next corner. Then one by one the others filtered through after them, moving silently, their movements honed by years of experience.

At least until Uther's foot connected with a discarded empty canister. It toppled with a clang that in the confines of the maintenance level reverberated deafeningly. The young man's face screwed up as though in physical pain, waiting for the echo to die. For a moment they all stood rigid, letting the silence return.