The outpouring of horror from both Tyndall on the Manitta-Vanna and his fellow operatives didn't surprise him, so Darien just stood for a moment and let them vent. He understood the impulse – he was hardly enamoured with the plan himself. Eventually the hubbub died down and he looked around at the sea of horrified faces.

"Feel better?" he enquired.

"Darien, it's insane," Amber exclaimed. "You'll die!"

"No I won't," he replied. "An ordinary human wouldn't be able to get out of the sub before detonation. I'm a Blink operative. I can."

"But what about the sonic blast that thing puts out? This ship seems able to take it but our subs can't. You'll never get close enough."

"I will if you distract that thing. Keep its attention away from me until I'm too close for it to stop."

"I can't sanction this, Operative," Tyndall said. "I'm not sending you on a suicide run."

"I don't need your permission, Lieutenant," he returned. "You said it yourself. We don't have enough shuttles to get everyone off-planet. Either we stop that thing now or a lot of people are going to die. Not to mention everything we've learned here will go up in smoke. Is that what you want?"

Silence greeted his ultimatum as those present contemplated the words. Evacuating into the sea would be a virtual death sentence for the station inhabitants and with the prospect getting off planet closed, he didn't see an alternative. And maybe, just maybe his audacious scheme might kill the Leviathan stone dead. That was a measure of payback he desperately wanted.

"Damn it all," Tyndall sighed. "Alright, the ordinance is in the armoury on pier seven. I'll let the guards know you're coming. You'll be dealing with Blitz-Pattern CC blasting caps, up to three megatons apiece. Familiar with them?"

"I know the model," he replied.

"They can be coupled together for increased yield but you'll need a cargo lift to shift the finished bomb to the launch bay. I'll leave one of our survey subs standing by for you."

"I appreciate it. When this thing blows I'll have to Blink as far away as I can – I'll be in the open ocean. I'll punch my trauma beacon then you home in and pick me up as soon as you can. The water here's freezing."

"Will do, Operative. Just make sure you're there." He paused for a moment. "Good luck, kid, and Godspeed. Tyndall out."

The only sound on the ship was the low rumble of the engines as the assembled operatives exchanged looks, none of them able to offer any alternative to the mad-cap scheme. Darien took a steadying breath and nodded to himself. "Alright then."

"I'll go with you."

He turned sharply at the sound of Niamh's voice. She stepped up beside him and nodded, her green bionic eye glinting viciously in the light.

"What?"

"I said, I'll go with you," she repeated.

"The survey subs only take one person, Niamh."

"I know that, but rigging one of those subs with a bomb that size, it's a two person job – you know that," she countered. "Besides, I wouldn't want you to get cold feet at the last minute."

She grinned and he shook his head, unable to keep a smile off his face. He knew there was no point trying to talk her out of it. One thing his second-in-command didn't lack was stubborn courage.

"If that's what you want," he relented. "I guess I could use the company."

Niamh nodded, shouldering her carbine. "Once it's ready I can Blink back to the Manitta-Vanna. They'll have a temporary Nav-Rod wired up by then."

He blew out his cheeks in a sigh – she seemed to have all her own bases covered, and she was right too. It would be a much faster operation with two people, and time was a luxury they didn't have. He shrugged off his pack and let it thump to the floor and felt his shoulders relax, no longer having to lug an extra thirty pounds of gear around. He looked at Niamh.

"Let's do this."

*

Darien emerged back into reality onto a wildly shaking landing pad on pier seven. He dropped a couple of feet from his Blink and folded down to one knee to land firmly. Sheets of rain were still slamming against the platform, but he suspected the wobbling of the structure had less to do with a storm had more to do with the approaching hulk of the Leviathan below. It was so massive its sheer water displacement was sending waves through the ocean.

The clunk of boots to his right signalled Niamh's arrival. She straightened up, shielding her eyes against the downpour and looking around. The sky was thick with dark, roiling clouds, casting a dark pall over the blinking lights of the research platforms. The pier was empty – the station personnel would be loading themselves and whatever essential gear they could carry onto the evacuation submarines.

Darien wiped the film of water from his eyes and motioned with a bob of his head towards the main facility. His companion blew raindrops from the tip of her nose, grinned breathlessly and they set off. The door of the facility slid open and the two operatives ducked inside, out of the elements.

"Armoury's this way," Darien said, tugging Niamh along at a run through the deserted passages of the research station. Following the memorised layout of the structure he turned left, then right, then left again before they spotted bold black letters emblazoned on the wall directing them down the final passage.

When they arrived one marine was waiting for them, and the man looked more than a little uncomfortable about having to wait around on a quaking sea platform. He spotted them and immediately straightened up, punching a code into the panel beside the huge armoured door before facing them.

"You the Blink operatives?" he barked.

"In person," Darien answered, skidding to a halt. "We all set?"

"Cargo hauler's inside. You still need to rig up the charges then shift it down to the launch bay." He pointed down the hall. "There's a bulk-lift down the hall – that's your direct route."

And then he was gone, clattering off down the corridor. The armoury doors slid open and Darien turned to look inside, feeling his heart rate start to speed up as the mad scheme became very quickly a reality. The room was a simple affair with two large weapon racks running down either wall and a third shelving unit built into the far end of the room loaded with the miscellaneous gear.

The CC Mining Charges were stacked in clear sight out in front next to the cargo hauler. Each one was the size of a dustbin lid, designed with a central drum-shaped detonator that held the explosive charge, and four claw-like legs to anchor it in place. Warning signs were plastered all over them, a none-too-subtle reminder of the force contained within.

"Okay, strap them together, make sure they're all primed," he said. "We need all five to go up in one big blast."

"I can rig a delay timer," she replied.

"Don't bother." When she looked at him sharply he shrugged. "Can't take the chance. With that thing's sonic boom it might knock out the system. I'm going to trigger it manually."

"What?!" Niamh shook her head in disbelief. "Darien, you won't have any time to get out!"

"I'll have long enough to Blink."

"That's a hell of a risk."

"You're telling me." He clapped her on the shoulder, smiling with a lot more confidence than he felt. "But I'm usually reliable. I'll be fine." She managed to return his gesture, but he could see the worry in her eye. Nonetheless, they set to work, fastening five of the three-megaton charges with metal clamps. One by one they keyed in activation sequences – the destructive devices would now only take a single button push to cause an awful lot of fireworks.

Next came wiring the blasts together to ensure that each concurrent explosion reinforced the next. It was a delicate process, but once completed it would ensure that every scrap of destructive power contained within the charges would be unleashed upon the monster beneath the waves. Each charge would detonate within two milliseconds of the next.

When the bomb was finished it took both of them to heave it up onto the gently humming cradle of the cargo hauler. The machine was long enough to carry a person, the colour of charcoal and sporting a single long anti-gravity support running down its length to hold it suspended off the ground. Taking a handle at each end, the two operatives set off at a jog from the armoury. Darien would have liked to move faster, but the facility walls still shuddered and shook under the onslaught of the ocean. With their volatile cargo they couldn't take any chances.

Niamh thumped the release on the bulk-lift and the steel doors slid apart. Much larger than the normal elevators scattered around the research station, the bulk-lift was a broad chamber designed to move heavy equipment around. As a result it was painstakingly slow. That gave Darien time to contemplate what he was about to do and that he wished it didn't. He tried to shove the prospect to the back of his mind and not think about anything except the next step forward.

He felt the adrenaline start to seep into his system as the doors of the bulk-lift finally reopened to reveal the station's main dock. Most of the other vessels had been launched already and water was splashing up and over the sides as the station shook. A handful of the remaining research and military personnel scuttled back and forth, frantically loading gear onto the last of the escape ships. Darien glanced around and spotted the ship that had been set aside for his mission.

The submarine was one of the last left in the bay, a single person survey craft shaped like a cigar tube and around twenty feet in length. The boarding ramp was down, waiting for its destructive payload to be delivered. Darien swallowed hard.

"You sure you wanna do this?" Niamh enquired.

"Not really." He gave her a nudge with one elbow. "C'mon, let's get this thing loaded up before I change my mind."

They each took hold of an end of the cargo hauler and made their way across the shuddering deck plates. Darien planted his feet and took slow, deliberate steps as they mounted the ramp and made their way up into the interior of the sub. Designed for one purpose, the survey craft was a cramped space, clogged with diagnostic stations and just enough room for them to manoeuvre the hauler into the rear compartment.

He checked and rechecked the detonators on the charges while his companion initialised the sub's power systems. The rumble of engines sounded in his ears and the prospect of what he was about to do got a little bit more real. He took a deep breath as Niamh poked her head into the compartment.

"Systems are spun up – looks like you're good to go," she told him.

"Alright then." He followed her back to the entrance of the sub, pushing away the apprehension that was clawing at his mind. Niamh stepped through onto the boarding ramp and turned back to face him.

"You've only got one engine in this tub so you can burn hard and that thing probably won't notice the power output until you're close enough," she babbled. "Once you trigger those charges you'll only have a second to get out so don't think about it – just fling yourself high and far-,"

"Niamh," he interrupted with a smile. "Don't worry about me. I've done stupider things in my lifetime. Can't think of any right now, but y'know..."

Niamh bit her lip. "Please don't get yourself killed," she said softly, and he could see her real eye shining under the dim light of the docks.

"Yes, ma'am," he told her. He put a hand on her shoulder for a moment, as much for his own assurance as hers. Then he turned away.

And a firm grip hauled him back around. Before he knew what was happening Niamh pulled him forward by his combat vest and pressed her lips against his. His eyes closed automatically and he felt the cold metal of her cybernetics touch his skin. Then he started kissing her back without thinking, his arms slipping around her, pulling her close. One of her hands crept up behind his head, through his thick dark hair and she pushed against him with something approaching desperation.

When they came apart words completely fled from his mind. He stood there, staring at the girl who'd been by his side for years. From recruit, to trainee, to operative, from his first mission as a squad leader all the way to this moment she had been there, a rock of reliability and friendship. But this...he hadn't expected this.

He'd never really given it much thought – the rules governing relationships between operatives were clear and not open to interpretation. Being in the same squad was bad enough, and being the ranking officers made it even worse. But now that he stood looking at her, her fiery red hair dripping with rain, the emerald light of her bionic eye twinkling invitingly, his heart jumped at the possibility.

Niamh stifled a giggle, taking a step back. "You okay there, sir?"

"Niamh, I didn't..." he stuttered. "How long have you...?"

"Since Titan Aquilla, I guess," she admitted. She cleared her throat and gave him a bashful smile. "I guess... well I know we've been on a lot of missions together but there – we all could have died that day and I never really shook it off. I just thought, if this goes wrong and that oversized tick ends up killing us all, or you don't come back, I'd rather you knew." Niamh shrugged. "I don't know if you feel the same, or if you've ever even seen me as anything more than your second officer. I...well I've seen how you look at Amber and-,"

"No, it's not that!" he blurted out quickly and despite everything he felt blood rushing to his cheeks. "I'm not...not that way! I mean, Niamh, we've been together for a long, long time. If I was going to, with anyone..."

She cocked an eyebrow. "I'm sensing a 'but' on the horizon."

"But the regulations, relationships within squads-"

"Unbelievable." She cut him off, rolling her good eye in exasperation. Yanking him forward, she planted another firm kiss on his lips then stepped back, shoving him toward the pilot station. "Tell you what, smooth-talker, if we survive this you can sit and quote me all the regulations you want back at HQ. For now, do a girl a real big favour and go kill that thing so we can live long enough to argue about it!"