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.

As presentable as she could be, she clutched her weapon across her chest, having to hold it there without the clip of the combat vest to hang it from. Hekket joined her, along with a few others from the assorted members of Vandal, Rigel and Panther squad that were scrambling for their own equipment. They made for a somewhat random, albeit well-turned out group and for a moment they milled uncertainly in the barrack room, as though stepping over that threshold would finally confirm Vass's death.

But then Vanna Proctor slid her way through the bodies to the front of the group. Acknowledging Amber and Hekket with a curt nod she turned to the ragtag assembly.

"I know this is a bitter one," she said, her voice cold and clear. "But we have a duty to Vass, and to everyone in Tundra. Backs straight eyes front – give him the send off you would want for yourself. Now follow me."

No-one hesitated after that. With Vanna striding purposefully ahead the Blink contingent marched through the corridors towards the Karpa Luna infirmary. This time no one cast looks at the operatives. This time bodies parted like water before them.

They arrived at to find a thick silence weighing down on the very air of the passage. A doctor was conversing in low tones with Niamh and the blonde-haired medic from Tundra Squad – Cath – who seemed to be nominally in command of the surviving operatives of her unit. She was holding it together, but Amber could see the tightness of her jaw and the hunch in her shoulders.

Pity surged through her at the sight of the other members of the squad, standing in cleaned and polished uniforms, their faces masks of barely contained heartache. Whatever differences had existed between the Blink officers, it was clear that the members of Vass's squad would have followed him to hell and back. One of the operatives, a boy named Wheylock, even bore a heavy medical brace that ran almost the length of his right leg.

The new arrivals peeled off to stand with their respective squad mates, Amber and Hekket quickly striding over to where Idas and Uther waited, eyes respectfully downcast as they waited for proceedings to get underway. Amber squared her shoulders and did her best to stand statuesque with her comrades.

At the conclusion of the quiet conversation with the attending doctor, the infirmary doors hissed open and a pair of medical orderlies emerged, pushing between them a long oval of crisp white suspended by gravity cradle supports, its upper surface dominated by a curve of frosted cyan glass. Amber stiffened at the sight. It was a cryo-casket, a way for the medics to keep bodies preserved on site while they waited to be shipped back to their home planet.

She knew exactly who was inside it.

Forcing herself not to look at the glass she waited as the orderlies pushed the gently humming machine past them, over to where Tundra's operatives stood. Niamh and the doctor stepped aside, making room for Cath and her comrades to take up positions in a square, each gripping one handle of the casket. Wheylock limped heavily, his face tight with pain but he didn't make a sound.

"Hammerhead Squad, up front with me," Niamh ordered quietly. "Followed by Vandal, then Rigel, then Panther. Tundra bringing up the rear until we reach the honour hall. Single ranks, slow-step march. When we reach the hall we will split to flanking lines, Hammerhead and Vandal to the left, Rigel and Panther to the right. Tundra will take the centre."

A murmur of understanding rippled through the assembled guard of honour. Straightening up, Amber stepped forward and took up her position on the far right of the line. Hekket stood to her left, Niamh in the centre, then Idas and Uther filling out the front rank. Footsteps clacked on solid floor behind them as the other squads trooped into their assigned positions.

Niamh glanced back; nodded once and started marching.

Luckily Blink operatives were quick to adapt to unfamiliar situations. After a few steps following Niamh's lead they matched her pace and the hallways rang with synchronised footsteps. Amber took a deep breath, keeping her eyes front, her back straight and her steps even as they moved.

The route to the honour hall was largely deserted, cleared out ahead of them by Merlynn's troops. Those soldiers and administrative staff that they did pass stopped what they were doing in an instant, moving aside and lowering their heads respectfully as the procession passed them by. Despite the misery of their current task, Amber felt heartened seeing their reactions. Some things passed any and all rivalries and differences.

Only a handful of passages separated the infirmary from the hall itself, and they rounded the final corner where a large double door gaped open. She could see lights shining beyond and felt the a chill wash through the air around them. Trying to calm the thumping of her heart, she did her best to look firm, standing strong for the dead as they finally crossed the threshold.

The honour hall on Karpa Luna base was too big; too real. Amber's eyes ran up the walls that glowed with active cryo-caskets, where casualties of the conflict awaited in icy suspension for the arrival of military support ships that would take their bodies home. The number of them sent a whorl of nausea turning in her stomach. So many dead – and they still hadn't even officially acknowledged the conflict on Ravine for what it was. As the Blink teams split apart to form their lines Amber pressed her lips tightly together, her skin crawling.

A corridor of soldiers from the Beltock Dragoons awaited them on the other side of the door, the troops stationed at two meter intervals in two lines to the left and right, stretching down the hangar-like expanse of the hall. As the two columns of Blink operatives formed their protective cordon around the slowly marching members of Tundra squad, the soldiers snapped to attention, every one of them standing like a granite sentinel, rifles held tight across their chests.

At the end of the tunnel of soldiers Major Khumalo, Merlynn's second-in-command, was waiting, the dark-skinned officer's face solemn as he observed their approach. As the Blink operatives marched to a halt he straightened up, clicked his heels together and saluted them. An instant later the quartet of dragoons standing behind him repeated the gesture in perfect unison.

They held that pose for three whole seconds before their arms snapped back down to their sides again. Khumalo stepped forward, hands clasped behind his back.

"Colonel Merlynn sends her condolences, and her apologies for not being able to attend in person," he said, his voice subdued. "Arrangements have been made to ensure Operative Juntaar is placed on the next outbound transport. We will get him home."

"Thank you, Major," Niamh replied stiffly, before inclining her head to the four soldiers standing behind him. "I think his squad would like to do the final honours – you understand."

"Of course." With a flicking gesture of one hand Khumalo motioned his troops to stand aside. Niamh stood aside too, giving Cath the smallest of nods as she did.

And stepping forward, the four remaining operatives of Tundra squad gently guided Vass's cryo-casket into the embrace of the loading cradle. The metal claws eased shut with a reverent gentleness and Amber found herself wondering if that programming was deliberate, her mind searching for some kind of distraction from the reality of what was unfolding before her eyes. With an effort she swallowed down the lump rising in her throat.

Then the casket was lifted, and with it Tundra squad sent another of their comrades into the great beyond.

*

Darien arrived back at the base the next day.

After they had committed Vass's body to the honour hall, Niamh had taken it upon herself to radio the military transport carrying him back to the base, sparing the pilots the duty of breaking the news. They'd all been in the room when that fateful message had been sent; all heard the taut fury in Darien's voice when he acknowledged their message.

They met him at the landing pad, the members of Hammerhead squad gathered at the end of a long gangway flanked by heavy crates of equipment waiting to be loaded.

Amber watched the white hot plumes of the transport growing larger like miniature suns as the craft descended. Four cones of light added an extra scaling level of heat to the already baking air, Ravine's bruised horizon glowing with distant bubbling volcanoes. The shovel-nosed triangle of an aircraft descended into view, its armour blackened and mounted guns retracting into their housings. Toothed feet clunked against the solid metal of the landing pad and she sucked in a deep breath of the chemical ridden air.

Hydraulics snarled in the heat and the boarding ramp descended and a lone figure came trudging out into the murky afternoon light. With a kit bag swinging dejectedly from one shoulder, he crossed the metal towards them, his face an unsmiling mask. When he stopped in front of them no-one spoke, a void filling the air between them. In the end Niamh simply stepped forward and hugged him.

"Good to have you back," she said, clapping him on the back.

He smiled hollowly.

They parted and he let his eyes wander over the other members of the squad. "I'm sorry I wasn't here."

"Someone had to go," Idas replied, folding his arms tightly. "It's just...bad luck."

"Bad luck." Bitterness seeped into Darien's voice as he gave a fatalistic shake of the head. "I guess that's something nobody can control, eh?"

"Did you..." Amber hesitated for a moment, before forcing the words out. "Was it worth the trip? Did you meet... whoever it is?"

"Oh, I met him alright," Darien chuckled. "I know the bastard."

"You what?!"

"A man called Kyros." He glanced at Niamh. "You were right. I used to run the canals with him when I lived here. I thought he was dead but..." He made a vague, helpless gesture with one hand. "He's running this whole damned war."

"Space me," Hekket muttered. "You okay?"

"I was, for a little while." He started pacing slowly back and forth, as though he needed the motion just to keep the words flowing. "He almost had me, you know? I know what people go through on this planet. I know what he says he's fighting against. I heard him speak and I thought, maybe, maybe someone will listen. Maybe he's not the crazy murdering terrorist we all thought." A heavy shrug. "I almost felt sorry for him. Then Vass died and let real world back into my head."

Darien stopped pacing.

A few seconds passed and Amber could feel the anger sizzling inside him, ready to erupt like a volcano. She took a step back, seeing the tremble in his shoulders that heralded an inevitable outpouring of furious energy. When it came she still couldn't stop herself from flinching.

A ripping, grinding yell of frustration burst from Darien's throat and he lashed out, slamming a boot into a nearby loading crate and sending it crashing over on its side. The top clanged open on impact and a clamour of metal on metal filled the air as spare parts spilled across the landing pad. A couple of members of the ground crew looked over sharply, but they had the good sense not to voice any complaints.

Darien stood there for a moment, visibly shaking with anger. Then, with an effort of will he seemed to gain control of himself once more, tensing and steadying his muscles.

"Son of a bitch," he hissed through gritted teeth.

Niamh stepped forward, motioning the others to stay put before reaching out slowly and carefully to place a hand on his shoulder. Amber saw him tense at the contact and he looked sharply over his shoulder.

"It's not your fault," Niamh said quietly.

"Oh, I know exactly who's fault it is," Darien grated. He straightened up, pressing a clenched fist against his forehead in frustration before turning to face them again, sticking out a hand. "Give me an earpiece."

Looking more than a little uneasy, Uther removed one from his pocket, stepped forward and handed it over. In a violent motion Darien jammed it into place and tapped it three times, checking the connection. Then he nodded to himself.

"I've had enough of this god-forsaken rock. All of you, come with me; we need to talk to Colonel Merlynn."

He didn't wait for anyone to agree or disagree. He just started walking, demanding a meeting with the leader of the Beltock Dragoons. She wasn't privy to the other side of that conversation, but the leap in volume of Darien's voice told her he wasn't about to take no for an answer.

At his furious pace it didn't take long for them to reach the main hangar of the base and hitch a ride on one of the beetle-like transport trucks that trundled across the main concourse of the Karpa Luna military base. A short ride passed in awkward silence before they were spilled back out into the heat, flashing identity passes at the command centre's guards and striding into Merlynn's domain once more.

In the command centre she was waiting, Major Khumalo standing off suspiciously to one side, and the intelligence officer Pynazt speaking to her in a low voice. They fell silent at the arrival of the operatives. Merlynn and Khumalo exchanged a curt nod before she beckoned the Blink troops to follow. With Pynazt close on her heels, she led them out of the main command centre and into an empty briefing room.

There officers and operatives took their seats around a grey, oblong table under effervescent light.

"Operative," Merlynn said, gesturing to Darien with a breezy sweep of one hand. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"You've seen my preliminary report?"

"Of course."

"Well... I don't think it really covers what we're up against here." Darien leaned forward with his elbows on the table. "Kyros is a zealot. He has a list of demands that he knows no-one on this planet will ever agree to. He's pushing this issue to try and make the colonial troops look like the ones who won't compromise, but he never really wanted peace. It's all smoke and mirrors."

"What makes you so sure?"

"Because he believes that Ravine needs to end. Either we meet demands that can't be met, or the whole thing comes crashing down. All out war that'll tear this planet to pieces."

Merlynn pursed her lips for a moment. "I cannot say I'm surprised to hear that. I'm not here to win a war, but I will if I have to."

"Nobody will 'win' a war on Ravine. You might be able to bomb, blast and bury every rebel division on this planet but that's what he's banking on." Darien shook his head in disgust. "You've seen how they use their propaganda. This whole thing will spin into a bloody recruiting video, not just on Ravine but everywhere else. It might not end here."

At that Amber saw the clear shifting of posture of both Merlynn and Pynazt, both sitting straighter, expressions hardening as they realised the gravity of the situation.

"I believe we can avoid something that extreme," Merlynn said carefully. "But you know the man – you've spoken to him. What would you suggest?"

"Kyros is driving every part of this," he replied. "We need to remove him from the picture. I can't say exactly where he is hiding out, but I think if we retrace my steps we could piece together a rough starting area. It might take time, but if we find him you can send us in. We'll catch him and bring him back to Karpa Luna. Cut the head off the snake."

Amber exhaled with relief the breath she'd been holding. For a moment she had been fully expecting Darien's solution to be a more final one. She eased back in her seat waiting for Colonel Merlynn to respond.

To her bafflement Merlynn suddenly smiled. The expression was so rare that Amber felt a tingle of revulsion glide across her skin, her muscles tightening with unease.

"In that case, I think you'll be very happy with what your meeting with Kyros accomplished," Merlynn said, pride etched into the corners of her mouth. "Because we believe we know where he is hiding."

A stunned silence descended on the room. The Blink operatives looked at each other in confusion, but after a moment the only possible solution clicked into Amber's brain. Now it was her turn to feel anger, an indignant, hissing flame that burned in the pit of her stomach when she realised what the commander had done.

"You tracked him," she murmured, her voice low and cold. "You tracked Darien, didn't you?"

Merlynn pursed her lips together and exchanged an uncomfortable glance with Pynazt before she spoke.

"Yes."

Amber's eyes widened in horror and she looked at Darien sharply. "I thought you told them no? That it was too risky?"

Darien's brow furrowed and he turned his stare on Pynazt. "I did. Which means they somehow did this without me knowing."

"How in the hell could they have done that?"

"I'd love to know."

Pynazt looked to Merlynn for permission and a barely perceptible nod was enough. The wiry intelligence officer straightened up primly in her seat, clasping long fingers together in front of her before she spoke.

"I believe you are all familiar with the bio-trace agents?"

"We've used them before," Darien replied. "But I think I'd have noticed if you forced me drink a vial."

"The rebels on Ravine have sophisticated enough scanning equipment that our regular tracers are too vulnerable to detection." Pynazt shook her head. "The R&D teams on Ravine have been working up an... alternative method that doesn't involve direct ingestion by the subject. It's less pinpoint, but much less likely to be detected on an invasive scan."

Amber looked at the woman in confusion. The bio-trace agents might have been more common now, but they were still top of the line tech. She found it difficult to believe a team out here could have radically improved on the formula so quickly.

"What is this 'alternate' method?" she asked icily.

"Simple really." The intelligence officer shrugged. "We converted a measure of the existing bio-trace agent into an aerosol. Then we treated Operative Flint's clothing with it before he left."

"That works?"

"It's a little more rough and ready than the ingested biological approach." A hint of smugness crept into Pynazt's voice as she continued. "But has potential for a far wider catchment. Every time you sat down, or leaned on a wall you left a breadcrumb. Every time one of Kryos's goons laid a hand on you they transferred some of the agent to themselves. And so on, and so on until the trace decays too thinly. In this form the signal is extremely difficult to detect unless you know exactly what you're looking for. From our orbital scans it looks like the agent worked as designed. We have a very promising lead on Kyros's base of operations."

"Damn," Idas grunted. "Sneaky little techs you've got working down here, eh?"

She shot him a feline smile. "We try."

"What the hell is wrong with you people?!" Amber exploded, aghast at the blasé discussion of the utter betrayal of trust. "You knew what might happen if they detected that agent. You were told not to do this – the reasons were obvious to all of us."

"It was a calculated risk," Merlynn said firmly.

"Not that calculated – you didn't care what happened as long as you got to hang your trophy on the wall. You lied to us!" Amber's voice leapt in volume as she stared the woman down. Under any other circumstance she wouldn't have dared to speak to a senior officer in such a way, but anger overrode any sense of deference she might have been clinging on to. Her arm shot out, a finger pointing at Darien. "You lied to him!"

"It was necessary to-,"

"We already lost one squad leader and you could easily have cost us another – the leader of the entire Blink contingent on this bonfire of a planet. You don't get to play with our lives, colonel. We are not your soldiers!"

Merlynn stiffened, her patience thinning. "I think that's far enough, operative."

"Oh, you do?" Suddenly she felt a restraining hand on her shoulder. Her head whipped around and she found Darien looking her in the eye.

"Amber, what's done is done," he said quietly. "We can argue the ethics another time."

She felt her face twist into an involuntary expression of horror. "Darien..."

"I know." His steely gaze flickered to Merlynn. "This conversation isn't over, but right now Kyros is the enemy. He's the reason we're here; he's the reason Vass and the others are dead. We deal with him now. Everything else can come later."

Amber recoiled from him, letting his hand fall from her shoulder, a horrible feeling surging through her upon hearing a tone she knew all too well. She had seen that look before and it wasn't one she wanted to see. Darien had kept himself together through what had been a brutal, challenging assignment on this planet, but she saw the glimmer of rage; felt it in the timbre of his voice. He was closing in on breaking point, the same breaking point that had seen him murder an unarmed prisoner all those months ago. That vicious side of him was creeping to the fore once more, and it sent tremors of fear up her spine.

"No, Darien, think about this-," she began desperately, but he wasn't listening.

"So you know where Kyros is?" He looked past her, locking eyes with Merlynn.

"We believe so."

"Then tell me where and we can end this."