Blink: Interdiction (Book 4)

05

Squad by squad, the force of Blink operatives emerged into reality within the excursion chamber of Beltock's Wake. The closest planet to Ravine with a functioning Nav-Rod, Beltock was also home to a formidable detachment of the Colonial Navy, and it was from this body of warships that the first armed response to the outbreak of hostilities would come.

They fanned out quickly and smoothly to the edges of the room as their comrades came through. Darien turned on his heel, walking backwards and watching with approval as the best Blink had to offer made their transitions back into the real world.

When they all assembled they looked like a formidable force. They formed up in rough ranks, his team at the front, carbines hanging lazily across their chests, save for Idas, who had the bulky form of his jackhammer leaning across one brawny shoulder. A handful of others also carried the heavier weapons, showing they'd cleared their advanced weapon training – Kelsey Brannigan from Vandal Squad bore her heavy scoped lance-rifle, a sharpshooter by nature. Uniquely, Panther Squad's leader, Bandle, carried a squat, short-barreled stormgun, a weapon that could discharge a frightening volley of solid-state rounds in a matter of seconds.

A dangerous group, in the right hands.

"Okay everybody," Darien called, raising a hand to get their attention. "Give me a quick gear check then move it out." A scuffle and clatter filled the room as the operatives gave their equipment a cursory once-over, more out of procedure than necessity. Satisfied that their belongings had come through the transit unscathed, they formed up, and he led them out into the station proper.

He flashed his Blink ID to the pair of local dock security who examined it for a brief, handful of seconds before waving them through. Then they emerged from the excursion chamber and into the cavernous space of the dock itself.

Beltock's Wake was as far out on the rim as you could get while still feeling connected to human civilisation. A temperate world with over twenty heavily populated cities clogging up its equatorial band, it was the last real stop before the Black Line – the edge of explored space. The only planet further out was the volcanic stud of Ravine. Along with its substantial civilian presence, it also boasted a formidable detachment of colonial military forces, between navy units, marines and ground based armoured infantry.

Those forces were in full evidence when they emerged into the hanger. They stood at the top of a ramp connected to an enormous ringed platform that stretched around the entire circumference of the chamber. A metal dome stretched a hundred feet above their heads, studded with dozens of hangers that filled the walls like the inside of a gigantic metallic beehive. On the surface below, hundreds of men and women seethed back and forth in a constant ebb and flow, weaving around a clearly defined interlocking grid of cargo pathways filled with haulers and passenger trams.

He could see straight away approximately an eighth of the space was cordoned off from civilian traffic, and filled with soldiers and vehicles. Leading the operatives down the ramp from the excursion chamber, he joined them clambering aboard a waiting passenger tram manned by two colonial marines. They piled into the seats with military efficiency, locking into place, strapping in, stowing weapons and bubbling with low conversation. Niamh slotted in alongside him, carbine hanging from the strap on her combat vest and hands clasped behind her head as she lounged back against the seat.

The tram hummed into life, gliding across the mag-rails that criss-crossed the port with remarkable smoothness. He looked at his second in command and found her looking back, the familiar emerald green of her synthetic eye somehow welcoming and safe. Her sharp features cracked into a grin and he felt his limbs tingle.