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.

"Feel better?" Darien asked, clasping his hands together behind his head and leaning a foot on the table.

She nodded. "Much."

"I know what you're thinking, and I know leaving our targets with Merlynn's troops feels a little ... off," he continued. "But they're not some shady black-ops unit. They play by the rules. You shouldn't worry that we've somehow aided something we shouldn't have."

"No, I know," Amber said quickly. "It's just ... like you said, it feels weird. I guess I'm not used to working things from the sidelines like this."

"One op at a time," Hekket put in absently, his attention still largely focused on his data slate as he tried to take advantage of the pause to formulate a better strategy. "All you need to do is learn how to wind down between them."

"I guess." She rubbed the back of her neck with one hand, easing out a taut tendon as she examined her screen. If she'd calculated the moves of the others correctly she'd be taking at least two of them out of this round in the next set of moves.

But then her ears picked up something that filled her with confusion.

Amber looked up from the game with a frown at the sound of running footsteps and urgent voices buzzing in the corridor beyond. Hekket caught her eye; shook his head.

Then door to the barrack room suddenly banged open revealing Idas, and over his shoulder she caught sight of a slim operative with straw-coloured hair, wearing a jacket emblazoned with the snarling cat-head insignia of Panther Squad. Her soft features were painted with worry and when her gaze flickered forward to Idas she realised his expression mirrored hers.

"Guys, you gotta come quick," he blurted out.

Darien stood, his face instantly tightening with unease. "What is it?"

"The bad guys have jacked every transmission system on the freaking continent," the girl behind him interjected, her voice sharp with urgency. "Blanket audio-visual transmission direct from whoever's running their show down here."

"You're kidding?" Amber shot out of her chair, not quite believing what she was hearing. Up until now there had been no contact whatsoever from the rebel leadership. Now, out of nowhere, they were deliberately and dramatically getting in touch with everyone?

"I wish she was." Idas twitched his head towards the corridor. "Come on!"

For a moment she remained rooted to the spot in surprise, but when the others clattered past her she jerked into motion, falling into step behind the others as they clattered off through the Blink barracks.

With no planet-wide screens in their barrack room the operatives joined an untidy jumble of soldiers making their way to main mess hall. By the time they made it there they were jostling for space with well over a hundred off-duty personnel, clustered around tables or standing in clusters, all with faces turned to the banks of screens built into a cylindrical projection in the ceiling. Upon every single one was an identical shape.

The figure on the screen was little more than an oily, distorted silhouette against a greenish background, utterly featureless. From the shape of the shoulders and neck Amber thought it looked like a man, but it was impossible to be sure, and the thick voice modulation made it pointless to try and discern any clues that way.

"...you believe you have won a victory against us," the figure was saying, that deep, warbling voice taking on a faintly demonic undercurrent that sent a shiver up Amber's spine. "You could not be more wrong. Every strike you make against me and my people only strengthens our resolve. There are wrongs here, wrongs buried to the very foundations of this colony. They won't be made right by your campaign of terror.

"In the shadows, we have watched and waited. When people were dropping dead from overwork and exhaustion in the southern canal networks we watched, and we waited. When government forces brutalised workers for demanding decent living conditions we watched, and we waited. When whole towns were wiped from the maps after industrial accidents and failed experiments we watched, and we waited." The figure paused for a moment, then leaned closer to the screen, the darkness swelling like an inky void. "When the colonial government ignored us we watched, and we waited. And when they lied to us ... we watched. And we waited. We have turned the other cheek. We have given every chance for the broken system to be fixed by those who built it. They have refused.

"So if they won't fix it, we will destroy it. To the colonial military commanders and your lapdogs, to Ravine's spineless government and to the local police forces who've turned their guns on their own people, listen carefully. For every person you capture and torture, ten more will take their place. Every one of my people you kill will become a martyr. Every facility you destroy will be a monument to what we are building here. Ravine will be heard. And so will her people. There is nothing that I won't do to ensure that. Nothing."

The figure leaned back again, shoulders seeming to slump as it sank into a chair. "Do not test me."

Then the transmission crackled, fizzed and went dead, leaving a dead bank of static screens behind it. For a moment no-one said anything, silence hanging ominously in the air as the stranger's words echoed in the minds of those present. Amber licked dry lips, unclenching fists she didn't even realise she'd been holding. Beside her Hekket's lips twisted sideways thoughtfully, his eyes narrow, arms folded tightly as his gaze lingered on the dead screens.

As suddenly as they had gone dark the screens surged back to life, but this time they displayed what they were supposed to. Local news coverage blared back into prominence with panicked newscasters trying frantically to regain their composure and trot out some kind of meaningful explanation for what had just happened. Other channels speared into prominence, from sports broadcasts to panel shows from across the colonial networks.

And with that came an explosion of noise from the assembled operatives and soldiers watching the screens. Amber shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose as she turned over the implications in her mind, trying to block out the noise of the hubbub around her.

"Well ... shit," Hekket muttered and she opened her eyes, looking at him. "Looks like someone's ready to pick a real fight."