Blink: Interdiction (Book 4)

13

With her detailed report on the last mission filed, Amber lay down on her bunk in the barrack block, weariness settling over her like a cosy blanket. She popped her scheduled medication to counteract the effects of Ravine's tainted atmosphere and lay back on her bunk in Hammerhead's assigned billet within the barrack block. The bed was hard, harder than she was used to. Merlynn might have given them some space from the rank-and-file dragoons, but it seemed the special treatment went no further.

The others were also taking the opportunity to sneak in a quiet moment, eschewing the hubbub of the rec centre for some peace. All except Idas. Amber couldn't be certain, but she knew that his supposed girlfriend was part of Panther Squad. Perhaps he'd taken the opportunity to slip off and have some alone time.

Right now she was too weary to really think about it much. Her thoughts flickered back to the captive they'd deposited with Merlynn's soldiers, and what would become of her now. Although the rational side of her knew that capturing a high-profile asset could potentially be a godsend in their efforts to stabilise the planet, but the other part of her twisted with discomfort at what might be done in order to get that information. She hadn't forgotten the interrogations that had taken place on Blink Station Alpha during their last operation.

Although she hadn't actually seen what Smith had done, the implications were clear enough. In exceptional circumstances the colonial forces clearly turned a blind eye to more extreme interrogation techniques, on the basis that the information gleaned would be for the greater good. The wrinkle, as far as Amber saw it, was who exactly was supposed to decide what passed for 'exceptional' circumstances. There was no rule-book for that.

Sighing, she propped herself up on the bed and fished her data-slate from the kit-bag lying next to her. Flicking it on she tried to distract herself. If this had been a purely Blink operation she might have raised the issue with Darien, but Merlynn was in charge. Right now there was nothing she could do. She tried reading, but none of the e-novs held her attention for long. Then games, then puzzles, then technical research; nothing was sufficient to pull the splinter of unease from her mind.

With a huff of frustration she dropped the pad on her lap, running both hands through her thick dark hair.

"You know, if you're bored," Darien chimed from across the room. "We could set up a game of Glyphs?"

She shrugged half-heartedly but the others seemed a lot more receptive to the suggestion.

"We need to do something to sort that grim face out," Hekket taunted with a grin. "Else it'll stick like that."

"Oh, very good," she muttered, giving him a withering look. Nonetheless, with some reluctance she swept up her pad and slouched over to the middle of the room, dragging one of the featureless grey chairs along with her.

An hour and several games later, Amber found herself laughing and joking as though they hadn't a care in the world – as though they weren't sitting in the middle of a military base on a toxic fireball on the edge of space. The others had introduced her to Glyphs last year, a game based around rotating hexagonal panel cards in and out of a hand of eight, each one with different properties and functions within the game. Ideally, one could build up a hand with the maximum strengths and minimum weaknesses relative to the other players in the game.

She'd been good at it them, and time hadn't taken the shine off. After a couple of rounds she already had the others seething with good natured fury as she walked rings around them. They took a short break, partly, she suspected, to ease the embarrassment of having to lose yet another match in quick succession. Amber placed her data-slate on the table and leaned back in her chair beaming at Darien and Hekket while Uther and Niamh rustled up a round of synthetic coffees at the room's single drinks station.