A lone figure stood at the northern ridge of High Mountains, staring out across a pine-filled valley and watching as the sun dropped yet another time over the distant hills, setting the sky ablaze with brilliant red light.
	The view was incredible, enough so to be the entire reason worth traveling here for many sightseers, but it went wholly unnoticed as the figure gazed out, scanning the valley.
	The individual looked fairly ordinary to the casual passerby--not that there was such a thing this deep in the wilderness of the island--but his dress and equipment were carefully selected as always and he expertly put off a just-barely-threatening air that would make most people uneasy being near him. He was about seven-foot in height, with a leather longcoat that shielded him equally well from the cold autumn winds and unwanted gazes, a nondescript shirt underneath, brown pants that fed into knee-length utility boots, synth-fiber gauntlets that peeked out from the sleeves of his coat, and lightweight alloy shoulder and knee plating to compose his attire.
	And as far as his gear, he carried the bare essentials for staying out in the wilderness: a Mk. 27 EBR with a scope and bipod slung across his back, his handgun holstered at his side and partly concealed by the edge of his longcoat, binoculars and a canteen to the other side, and a small pack with extra ammunition, a compact bedroll, and emergency rations.
	Not that the Canadian bounty hunter needed even half of that, but it never hurt to be cautious. Em Joas hadn't made it in this rough world for so long without a little caution.
	He reached for his binoculars, and, placing to them to his eyes, scanned the valley below for several moments, ignoring the cold breeze as it blew past to whip up his hair and the leather coat's collar.
	Finding what he was searching for, he replaced his binoculars at his side, unslung his rifle, and began to make his way down the steep slope of the mountainside, skillfully maneuvering one footstep after the last.
	It took the better part of a minute to reach the edge of the forest, which he entered carefully, his senses alert and looking for the slightest sign of danger. As a result, he wasn't caught off guard when a voice spoke out to one side.
	" 'Bout time you got here."
	Em turned on the spot, rifle already raised and perfectly aimed at the source as the result of years of well-honed reflexes, though he relaxed his aim and dropped the rifle upon spotting the other man.
	A short walk away, leaning casually against a tree, was Em Joas's long-time friend and partner. A stetson mounted on a head of long black hair, and with a half-eaten donut partly poking out between his teeth, Flushy Ordo pulled one hand out of its pocket and drew out the donut before continuing.
	"Like I said, you were supposed to be here, oh..." Flushy checked his watch. "Six minutes ago, give or take?"
	Em walked up, still with his eyes scanning every corner of the forest, and was silent for several moments before getting directly to the point.
	"Were you followed?"
	"That's a dumb question."
	"Not with these guys it isn't." Em paused. A barely-audible hum could be heard over the sounds of the forest. Ignoring it for the moment, he continued. "What did you find?"
	"A lot. There's some kind of build up of 'em about thirty klicks east. It's crazy. LITA's sensor scans didn't pick up a thing two days ago, so they're either [i]real[/i] sneaky, or they got here awful fast. And they're buildin' something big. Like a big hole. Any idea what that'd be?"
	Em pulled out his canteen, opened it, and took a quick gulp of the hard maple syrup before passing it to Flushy, who followed suit.
	"Thanks."
	"No problem," Em replied.
	Flushy passed the canteen back to Em, who screwed the lid back on and stashed it at his side.
	
	"...Well?"
	"No, I wouldn't. Not without seeing it up close." 
	"But...?" Flushy prodded.
	"[i]But[/i], I have an idea, yeah."
	Flushy looked away into the forest, and Em followed his glance. The hum was getting steadily louder. Something was coming their way.
	"Time to go back to camp."
	"Definitely," agreed Flushy, placing the half-donut back in his mouth.

* * *

	Locke looked out the long, transparent viewport at the endless, star-speckled reaches of space. Space always felt so... empty. Decades of interstellar travel, and yet they had only found two barely-hospitable worlds to try and colonize. Locating even other star systems that had any chance to be inhabitable, let alone planets within those systems, was a very rare occurance.
	" 'Staring into space' again?”
	Locke turned in surprise to find Admiral Glendon standing behind him, his eyebrows raised.
 	"We have another ore shipment incoming in just five minutes. Better head to the bridge." Glendon gestured to the lift behind him.
	LITA-12 Far Orbit Interstellar Starbase, their assigned station and the most important space station in-system, rested roughly a hundred and thirty thousand kilometers from Earth. LITA-12 was the LZP Interstellar Transportation Agency's key station for managing in- and outbound starships going to other worlds in the system and also to other solar systems. The station looked something like a squashed soda pop can with a big metal pole stuck through the center to give it an axis of sorts, which it then spun on thus eliminating the need for artificial gravity generators. Two half-spheres, one on each side of the station's main section, served as the stationary, gravity-less pathways to the assorted appendages which jutted from them and connected to docking arms, fuel silos, solar collector arrays, and other smaller satellites of LITA-12. 
	"Yeah, another shipment. There's lots of those nowadays, isn't there?"
	"And not much else. It gets old fast, I know, but keep in mind we need those shipments to keep things going here. No tachyon ore, no space exploration."
	The two officers moved to the lift. Locke hit the doorpad, and the lift doors slid open for them. As they rode the long lift shaft, Captain Norfolk's voice came through the intercom. 
	"Admiral Locke, Admiral Glendon, this is Norfolk. We've detected the three freighters' superlight signatures on the long-range scanners. ETA seventy seconds."
	"Understood. We're almost to the bridge, Captain. Exit vectors plotted?"
	"Affirmative, Sir. Plotted and sent."
	"Good work." Locke gave a light smile. As dull as the whole process was, it worked as smoothly as you could get, the result of years of the same exact series of events being performed over and over again, and in the end it came out as flawless perfection every time.
	Almost.

	"Sir, we've got a radiation burst," came the captain's voice, with a noticeable edge.
	"Isn't that normal?"
	"No, it's something big. It came as eighteen times the size of the standard freighter's exit burst. We're also detecting just one, not three, but that's probably because of the size of the main burst."
	Locke tried to make sense of it in his mind, and Glendon looked equally confused. "Can you get a readout on the ship?
	"Not yet, but the radiation's clearing up fast... Wait- we're detecting energy buildups!"
	Norfolk's response was followed by a string of orders to the bridge crew, most of them unintelligible but all clearly frantic.
	The lift finally reached its destination, the doors opening to let Locke and Glendon into the bridge, but the sight that greeted them there was nothing either of them could have anticipated. Out the viewport, the station's deflector shields as dozens of luminous yellow columns of energy struck them over and over again. The bridge itself, reconfigured for the station's rare combat procedures, was full of shouting officers and bridge crew, holopanels displaying various battle systems such as shield strength, hull integrity, weapon status, and sensor scans, and in the center of the room a holotank projected a rotating, three-dimensional image of a starship of unrecognizable design.
	Well, [i]almost[/i] unrecognizable.
	"They're here," muttered Glendon, and Locke knew exactly what the meaning of the cryptic comment was.

* * *

	"Well?"
	He looked at the files projected in front of him. Frankly, the whole thing sounded ridiculous to him. The fact that a man wearing a suit and tie, not to mention an all-too-cliche set of shades, that claimed to be from the government was telling [i]him[/i] this just compounded the sheer levels of ridiculous-n... [i]no, "ridiculous-ness" isn't a word[/i]. But whatever. It got the point across for his mental self-debate.
	"So, you're telling me a bazillion-"
	"Three hundred thousand, according to our estimates," interjected the other man.
	"Whatever. Three hundred bajillion... [i]things[/i] are invading us, and you want me to single-handedly step in and save the day for you."
	"You've done crazier things."
	Ilaino let out a long bout of half-laughter.
	"[i]That[/i], Mister... whoever you are, isn't the problem. But [i]you're[/i] crazy if you think I'll just do this for nothing."
	"We're authorized to pay you a thousand credits for every one of them you eliminate," the government middleman stated simply.
	"Well if you put it that way, maybe this arrangement's not so bad."

	Ilaino took his twitchy finger off the trigger of his MAC-10, reaching for the holofile card and slapping it into his wrist dataport for safekeeping.
	"When do we start?
	"Be at the coordinates included in the files in three days." The man stood up from his seat. "Have a good day. We're counting on you."

	Ilaino watched him leave the small tavern, then himself stood and walked to the serving bar. To each side of him sat a woman and a man. To his left, the woman, Arwin Zypher, withdrew one of her several throwing blades from under her cloak and was casually twirling it in her left hand.
	"You took the job?"
	Ilaino sat down on the middle stool and grabbed the milkshake set in front of him. "Yep, sounds like they're pretty desperate this time. You two in with me?"
	To the other side, Ant finished slurping up the remnants of his milkshake, then shifted to messing around with the M313 LMG in his lap. "Does a paratrooper use a parachute?"
	"Yeah. We're in," Arwin clarified.
	Ilaino placed the downed milkshake on the counter and leaned back, flashing a grin.
	"Glad to hear."

* * *

	The duo reached their camp perhaps two hours after dusk. The moon was bright over the mountain ranges, but the sky had thankfully begun to cloud over. Not that darkness was likely to help much.
	The camp itself was a small circle, with a few bits of equipment scattered around the edge, a small shelter of natural materials to protect their more vulnerable pieces of gear, and a long-since-extinguished fire in the center. The camp was located on a high vantage point, an outcropping to one side of the mountain, giving them good visibility overall, and was difficult to access on foot. This meant they had plenty of time to anticipate visitors.
	As Em and Flushy approached the camp, a man stood and walked over. He was wearing a suit of [i]Dragon[/i] Type-III armor, painted a greyish-white with striping colored a manly shade of purple, and carried an oversized bullpup assault rifle. This was James "RC" Grond, heavy weapons specialist and the third member of their scouting team.
	"What did you find?" he asked.
	"They're here, James. And building something big. We need to send-"

	A light [i]whoosh[/i] sounded in the air, and without warning, the world exploded.
	Em's ears were ringing, and he pulled himself to his feet, grabbing his rifle and trying to ignore the aching in his head to figure out what had happened. He felt a gloved hand grabbing his arm, and turned his head to see Flushy, caked in dark soil and missing his beige stetson and donut, pulling him to his feet. 
	A blackened crater marked the ground just two meters in front of them, with the dry grasses still flaming at its edge.
	To the other end of the camp, James was shouting something to them, and motioning for them to come. Shouldering his rifle, Em sprinted over to the edge of the outcropping, ducking down to one side of a large rock in the same manner James had, and Flushy had probably done the same. As they did so, another rocket flew past, this time missing them and instead striking the mountainside.
	James pointed down the side of the mountain. "We've got two gunships incoming!"
	Em nodded an affirmative, then peered around his cover. Sure enough, two gunships, each like a narrow olive beetle hovering on four unmoving wings, were rapidly moving up from the forest edge in their direction. Em could feel the subterranean reverberations of the gunships' antigravs as they approached.
	The gunships opened fire. Each of them had a pair of high-caliber particle autocannons mounted to the front, and Em ducked back just in time as stone fragments flew off from his stone shield, fighting off a cough from the fine dust.
	"We need to get out of here!" Em shouted to Flushy and James, hoping they could hear over the thundering of the gunships' autocannons.
	They seemed to. James pulled a pair of cylinders from his side, then moving his hand, fingers spread out, into clear view of Em and Flushy, slowly dropped one finger after the last. [i]Four... Three... Two...[/i]
	Em flipped his rifle around the edge of the rock, leveled it with what looked like the cockpit section of a gunship, and let off five rounds from his rifle, wheeling back just in time to avoid the luminous yellow streaks that whistled past.
	But the quick diversion worked; James had lobbed both fusion grenades in the direction of the first gunship. Em looked carefully around, and saw the two cylindrical explosives stuck to the gunship's hull.
	Immediately the hull plating surrounding the grenades began to turn color. The paint coating peeled, burned, and evaporated off, while the metal armor itself heated to a glowing red then to white, and the air surrounding it rippled with heat waves. Suddenly, both grenades detonated, throwing a thousand small fragments of metal in all directions. Normally this would be a useless gesture against a gunship's strong armor, but the anti-vehicle fusion grenades had left the armor so hot the frag blast went through like buckshot through butter.
	Both sections of the hull buckled and collapsed inward from the explosion, leaving the fragile interior to the mercy of countless ricocheting metal pieces. The gunship lurched sideways, corrected itself for a split-second, then a cloud of green-tinted smoke spewed out from the back and the aerial vehicle lost all control, spiraling downward and crushing itself against the cliffside.
	The gunship exploded brilliantly, coating the surrounding area with a sickly, greenish light.

	[i]Time to move.[/i] "Let's go!" Em shouted.
	Em scrambled and reached back, grabbing the nearest functioning piece of gear from the remains of their campsite--a small pack, he noted subconsciously--then vaulted over the rock which had served as his cover.
	He hit the steep, rocky slope, and began to slide down at first. The remaining gunship turned its aim toward him, and he felt the sting of the occasional piece of rock as particle bolts trailed his rapid descent down the mountainside. He returned fire, squeezing off a few wilds rounds with his EBR, though it was a futile attempt. Flushy was already sliding down with him, pumping a steady stream of fire from his dual-barrel automatic shotgun, and managed to knock out one of the gunship's autocannons. James was nowhere to be seen.
	Unfortunately, the gunship had switched tactics. Its rocket pods rolled out the sides and took aim, centering on Em. He pushed off a rock on his way down the slide, dropping twice, and finally reaching a shallow enough angle to break into a dead run. That was when the first rocket hit.
	[i]This is bad...[/i]

* * *

Glendon’s eyes opened, then immediately closed back as the glaring light decided to sting his retinas unprovoked. He also noticed the headache, though it was hard to think so even that took a minute to reach his attention.
	He tried looking again, and managed to keep on doing so even when the overhead glowpads bit his eyes again. It was a bit blurry, but he could see his surroundings.
	He was also on the floor. Which was odd, really. The floor didn’t rank high on his favorite places to sleep. Time to get off the floor, then…
	[i]Still on the bridge[/i]. Yes, that was it. The command bridge viewport had a set of metal bulkheads covering it, which meant a breach into space. And the rest of the room? Well, it looked like it had just been redecorated by a psychotic nuke with an interest in post-modern art style.
	As Glendon crawled to his knees and almost instinctively drew his sidearm from its place at his hip, his senses began to return and he remembered what had happened. The attacking ships, the missile volley, the boarding pods, the yellowish… [i]things[/i]…
	“Locke!” Gritting his teeth against the throbbing pain in his head, Glendon stood up to full height. There were only perhaps a dozen others on the bridge, and all were lying unmoving on the deck. Which probably meant “dead.” But there was no time to lose; Locke was in [i]big[/i] trouble.
	He moved to the door, sidestepping to one end, and hit the unlock. It slid open, and he swung around and through, sidearm raised in the traditional shooter’s position and carefully scanning everything in sight. The corridor was empty, at least mostly, the exception being twisted deckplates and a huge, toothy maw-like projection which was jammed through the station wall, probably the business end of a boarding pod.
	Making it to the other end of the corridor, he popped open a maintenance hatch, sliding down the ladder inside with ease until he was perhaps two levels lower.
	Then it occurred to him to check the station crew’s status. Activating the dataport on his wrist, a holographic array of information shot up. The station was evidently in poor shape, with over eighty percent of its internal area marked as red for lacking atmosphere or other life support functions. Another twelve was yellow, meaning it was in danger of also suffering such hull breaches or power loss.
	Glendon noted that he was in one such area. [i]Better make this quick, then.[/i]
	He tapped the comm switch and brought it to his mouth. “This is Admiral Glendon to all available LITA-12 personnel. Does anyone read?”
	A second passed before a reply came. Glendon’s attention was first brought to the sound of small arms fire as his comm chirped. “This is Lieutenant Tarrace, sir! We’re in the secondary hangar bay- the main isn’t operational right now. And sir! We’ve identified the attackers!”
	Glendon was silent and waited for a reply. He already knew the answer, but he hoped against hope the lieutenant just might prove him wrong.
	“It’s the Mutant Lin’pokkets, sir. It- it’s them. They’re here.”
	Well, so much for any such hope.

Chapter 2

	The soft yet stiff mucus-like substance reeked awfully, the smell reminding him vaguely of rotting meat-and-tomato casserole, and the red-brown coloration reinforced that notion. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know what it really was.
	Locke also wasn’t sure which was worse: the smell, or the fact that his limbs were bound securely with it.
	He took a second look around at his surroundings once his eyes had adjusted to the dark better. It was a small cell or something. The walls were off-white except for several dark smears that he didn’t care to identify. The door was on the other end of the room from where Locke was propped against the wall, and was transparent with a slight dimming to it, like sunglasses might have. The floor had a curious round dais that came out of it, but he couldn’t even begin to guess its purpose. The only other feature was a rectangular “box” in the ceiling with several long slits in it, probably an air duct. And probably his only available means of escape, too.
	Not that escape looked very “probable” right now.
	There was a loud beep, followed by a [i]pop[/i], and a pair of the creatures that had imprisoned Locke grabbed the handle of the enormous cell door and slid it aside, while another duo threw two new prisoners in next to him. One prisoner was a member of LITA-12’s LZP Marine garrison, easily recognizable by his dark crimson uniform, and the other was a bald man dressed in a plain red shirt and blue jeans he had never seen before.
	“ ‘Ey there! Me name’s Bob O’Legg. I’d shake hands with ye, but… Eh.” Bob nodded toward his arms, which were encased in the same substance as Locke’s.
	“Not a problem. …Any idea where we are? What the cell number is even?
	The soldier spoke up. “The cell had a display which read Two-Thirty. Could be a cell number.”
	“Nahh, that ain’t nuthin’. Take it from a [i]seasoned[/I] pris’ner like ol’ Bob here. Y’see, the Lin’pokkets like their food fresh ‘n tasty. This is one o’ their cookin’ chambers, and that display’s the cookin’ time.”
	The severity of their situation finally dawned on Locke, who let out a sigh. “I take it you meant ‘seasoned’ pretty literally?”
	A few moments of silence passed by without anyone saying anything before Locke finally spoke up again.
	“Well, guess we need to escape then.”
	“Nahh, it’s hopeless. Ye don’t have any weapons at all, let alone stuff that’d crack them hard shells o’ theirs. For bricks’ sake, ye can’t even move yer arms!”
	Locke gave another go at it, with no results.
	“C’mon, we have to think of something. I’d [i]really[/i] like to not get eaten.” Locke tried counting his options, but he never got past the first. Which was “be eaten”. They could maybe try something if their Lin’pokket guards opened the door again, but he wasn’t exactly sure what they’d try. And anyway, the guards didn’t seem interested in coming in again until mealtime.
	The LZP marine was the first to come up with an idea. Even if it was a pretty obvious one. …Almost [i]too[/i] obvious, actually, to the point that Locke wished his arms were free so he could facepalm a few times. “What about your sword, Admiral?”
	Locke realized his sword had somehow been left at his side. A quick flip of the switch and its blade would cut through whatever it was ensnaring him like warm butter.
	He tried to reach for the “on” switch where it was on the hilt. Unfortunately it was about six inches above the reach of his hands, which he could barely budge.
	To compound the problem, it looked as if the Lin’pokket guards had in fact returned. One placed a claw to the control console on the outside of the cell, and a second beep sounded, followed by a steady, low humming that resonated from the entire cell it seemed.
	“Uh oh. That’s bad, isn’t it?”

* * *

	Em peered down over the edge of the gaping hole in the gunship’s cockpit armor. The interior was a mess. An oversized, yellowish creature, its hard carapace now shattered and a thick, chunky substance spilled out into the surroundings, sat at the cockpit controls. The Mutant Lin’pokket- for that was what it was- simply sat there, an odd lifelessness to it. Most people might be bothered by the grisly sight, or even nervous in case it should come to life again and attack, but Em had seen too many such things for these emotions to be an issue.
	“Joas, we need to hurry,” James prompted.
	He was right; the gunship had crashed in the middle of the forest, and was now a small inferno as its fuel tanks ignited. The gunship was a glowing beacon of fire and smoke, broadcasting their presence to everything for miles around. And if the attack was anything to go by, they needed to get far, far away, and very soon.
	“Flushy? What’d you find?”
	A head, still topped by the tan cowboy hat, came into view through another large breach in the gunship. Flushy leaned against the edge and plucked a sprinkle-coated donut from his mouth.
	“I found the transceiver’s processing cache, but it ain’t gonna come easy. Gimme… eight minutes maybe. I’ll have it out.”
	Em gritted his teeth, muttering a few choice words. “Not fast enough. Can you have it out in thirty?”
	“Thirty seconds? It won’t be pretty, but sure.”
	“Do it, then. They’ll be on us any minute now. James?” He turned to the armor-clad figure at the gunship’s base.
	“Yes?”
	“Signal the ship down now. Just in case we need a quick getaway.”
	James nodded an affirmative.

* * *

	Glendon peeked around the corner into the next corridor. [i]Clear. For now.[/i]
	He bounded almost-gracefully around, keeping his weapon clear in case he needed it. The gravity was definitely weakening steadily, most likely as the station lost its rotational momentum for some reason.
	He reached the next corridor intersection. One entrance led to the mess hall, while the other went to a small system monitoring station, the latter being his intended destination. LITA-12 had only a small handful of viewports, nearly all of which were set up to view distant inbound and outbound starships, not the station itself. More could have been put in, but the synthetic glass-like materials used were rather expensive.
	Entering, he moved to an access terminal, typing in his password and bringing up the status of the hangar bay. It read as having lost all atmosphere, the airlock damaged beyond repair. Next to search for was a list of the station’s hull breaches. There were over four hundred currently. Far too many to try and sort through. Cross-checking it with any breaches already sealed off successfully narrowed the list down. Pulling up a map of areas still with atmosphere [i]and[/i] hull breaches narrowed it down to just five breaches. Compare the breach sizes, find the one that’s different.
	[i]Bingo.[/i] Glendon picked up his sidearm, checked the breathing apparatus he had acquired earlier, and left the room.
	Rounding the corner, he came face to face with a pair of Lin’pokkets.
Seeing them in real life for the first time, he noticed how absolutely hideous they were. Mandibles protruded from the sides of a gaping maw, which had an array of unusually large external teeth. Their tannish-yellow coloring and odd rectangular bodies were highly reminiscent of certain foods.
	Thankfully, while Glendon was momentarily stunned by the encounter, they seemed to be caught off guard as well, giving him a chance to recover from his surprise and react. His handgun was already leveled with the face of one of the Lin’pokkets and spewing multiple shell casings before either creature thought to bring their own handheld particle rifles to bear.
	He threw himself sidelong into the other corridor entryway to his right, hitting the deck plates and sliding out of their line of sight just as the glowing particle rounds left yellow, lethal streaks in his wake. He flinched slightly as the particle rounds gouged smoking holes in the metal corridor and sent red-hot flakes of steel flying, then, scrambling to his feet, he pressed himself against the wall, gripping one of the emergency handholds bolted onto its surface.
	Just as the Lin’pokkets came charging into view, he pulled himself up using the handhold, brought one foot up onto it, and, taking advantage of the lighter gravity, kicked off, propelling himself over the nearer of the two Lin’pokkets.
	He caught the top of the Lin’pokket, dropping onto its back. The creature’s rough hide tore at his pant legs as his knees made contact, and Glendon winced slightly.
The Lin’pokket, initially fooled into thinking he had soared clear over, spun around with surprising agility, and Glendon nearly lost his grip. Pulling himself slightly higher with the upper edge of the Lin’pokket’s exoskeleton, he threw his weapon arm over, squeezing off several shots at the other Lin’pokket. It let out an angry noise and opened fire without concern for its comrade, which emitted an ear-splitting cry as the particle bolts crushed through its shell.
	Amazingly, the particle rounds flying through missed Glendon, with two zipping through the very edges of his uniform. He grabbed hold of the dying Lin’pokket’s oversized weapon, putting the tightest grip on its clawed hand that he could muster. The particle rifle blazed away, spraying wildly as its wielder began to drop, and the other Lin’pokket screeched in surprise, clambering out of harm’s way while sustaining more than a few hits.
	Glendon climbed off the fallen Lin’pokket and simultaneously holstered his pistol, catching the oversized particle rifle and hefting it up into a usable position. It took a few tries with the handgrip to finally fire it, but he let loose an intense stream of fire toward the surviving Lin’pokket- which was now scrambling madly for cover- while finally heading down the station corridor that led to his destination.

* * *

	Em, Flushy, and James reached the landing site of their ship just as the sun was starting to set over the mountain ranges.
	Their ship had landed on auto-pilot in a tiny clearing farther in the forest. The [i]Bigger Fish[/i], of the Type-187 Dropship model, was a former military troop carrier and cargo hauler which had been phased out of military use due to its obsolete design and wound up on the open market, soon after being purchased by James. Since then, it had served the trio well, taking them reliably to countless missions and getting them out of more than one tight situation alive.
	Em climbed the boarding ramp, then, being the last one aboard, raised the ramp after them. James was already on his way toward the cockpit, and Flushy, after starting in on another donut, began inspecting his weapon for any dirt or damage.
	After readying the ship, the [i]Bigger Fish[/i] lifted off, first raising up on its antigravs before the thrusters kicked in, causing the ship to shudder slightly as it gained a sudden burst of forward momentum. They glided low above the ground for several minutes in hope of successfully evading detection, then began a steep climb toward low orbit.
	In the ship’s cockpit, Em swiveled his seat to the side, keying up the longbeam comms transceiver and setting the recipient of the transmission. It took the better part of a minute to get a response, but finally it came.
	“This is ELZINT. Who is this?” ELZINT, or the Elzeep Military Intelligence Service, was the LZP Military’s head information-gathering branch. They were frequently a pain to work with, but paid well enough for intel on certain subjects that it was well worth the hassle for freelancers.
	“This is Bounty Hunter Em Joas. Passcode five-five-seven-two-one-three. We have information having to do with the sightings.” He turned toward the cockpit entrance. “Flushy? You have them?”
	“Sure do.” Flushy tossed a holocard over, which Em caught without even looking and then slid into a port.
He realized he hadn’t yet seen the photos, and cued them up. A set of two-dimensional holographic images shot up, displaying a large, perfectly-circular pit, which looked to be incredibly deep. Two metal spires extended on opposite ends of the pit, and several large clusters of huge weapon emplacements surrounded it.
	Em felt his blood run cold.
	“Hunter Joas, this is Commander Daragon. We have a number of… pressing matters at present, so please be quick. What do you have for us?”
	“I just sent it, Commander. Tell me what you think.”
	Several seconds passed in silence. Commander Daragon finally continued, but his voice was the tiniest bit less steady.
	“An Orbital lift tower, of Mutant Lin’pokket design.”
	“The Lin’pokkets are pretty strong in the High Mountain region. We ran into a few gunships.”
	“Yes, yes, we’re aware of this.” Daragon paused for a moment. “Bounty Hunter Joas… we have a favor to ask of you.”
	“And that is?”
	“We lost contact with one of our key sensors arrays. We believe the Lin’pokkets are involved.. We have a team bound for the area already, but any additional help in re-securing it would be appreciated.”
	“We don’t do favors, Commander.”
	“I didn’t think so.” he noticed the commander give the slightest hint of a smirk. “We can pay you six hundred thousand for the job. Can you handle it?”
	Em allowed himself a slight smile. “I think that’ll work, Commander. Joas out.”
	He cut off the transmission.
	James set the [i]Bigger Fish[/i] on auto-pilot and turned around in his seat. “What’s the plan?”
	“Looks like we’re in for another job. Did they send coordinates?”
	James checked. “Yeah, they’re here.” He punched them into the navigator. “We ready then?”
	“Not quite. I have one more call to make…”

* * *

Chapter 3

	The footsteps clanged against the metal floorplate, growing louder with each passing moment.
	He tensed his right arm even more against the crossbeam, leaving his left to reach back and tap the button on the side of his helmet, toning down the volume of the incoming footfalls. He then engaged the soundwave visualization scanner, and a series of yellow pulsing waves seemed to wash over every physical surface in sight.
	The helmet’s scanner did its job as well as could be expected, and below him the forms of at least a dozen men—all armed, he noted—formed into existence in his vision where there had just only been the side of the oversized corridor duct he was precariously hiding in.
	A better count than his initial estimate showed the patrol to be a total of fifteen men, three times that of the typical group of corridor guards here in the bank complex. [i]They must be coming off patrol for their break[/i], he realized, his mind already calculating the best approach to solve this unforeseen complication.
	Shadow ran a quick check of his equipment to ensure that everything was in order, blinking in sequence at a series of flashing lights on the edges of his helmet HUD, which in turn displayed the necessary information for him to see. Embedded power readers in his twin holsters checked the batteries and magazines of his suppressed K&T PP10 Charged Particle Pistols, which were ready for their full thirty shots each; his boot-mounted rocket thrusters were properly calibrated, and there was plenty of fuel for both them and his forearm-mounted flame projector; his ejectable knuckleplate knife blade shot out and in with an eerie quietness, and then read as being ready; his armor plates were intact and read at full integrity; his own life signs were good and his heart rate stable; finally, it checked his magnetic gauntlet and boot lock-clamps.
However, this last one proved to be nearly fatal, as the sudden shift in his grip on the metal beams his arms and legs were supported on, caused when the magnetic clamps engaged and disengaged, nearly made him fall right in front of the approaching patrol of bank guards. Fortunately, he managed to hold on, and, as quietly as he could, positioned himself back on. [i]Definitely need to change that later[/i], he noted to himself mentally.
	The guards began to pass below, and Shadow readied himself to drop behind the group.
	Just then, a quiet beep was emitted from his wrist pad, accompanied by a red flashing light, indicating that he had an incoming hypernet call. He muttered a string of unsavory comments pertaining to hypernet salesmen and their uncanny ability to call at the most inopportune moments, then glanced down below. The guard directly below the air duct stopped at the sound, looking around then finally beginning to look up. 
	Realizing he was in for it, Shadow let his feet slide off their beam, swinging them down, then, timing it perfectly, let go with his hands as well. One booted foot landed solidly on the guard’s face and then pushed off again; meanwhile a sickening pop could be heard and the guard dropped backwards. Both of Shadow’s PP10s slid out of their holsters, coming up and centering their aim on the closest guards before firing a single round each.
	The limp forms of all three guards hit the deckplates in tandem with Shadow’s armored boots.
	A moment of stunned silence passed; neither Shadow nor the guards so much as let out a breath.
	The remaining twelve guards’ automatic carbines suddenly came to and leveled themselves with the intruder, bolts cocking simultaneously. Shadow went into action, throwing himself to the side of the corridor and away from the torrent of enemy fire, while the PP10s in both his hands bucking wildly. Spent casings spun out from his sidearms, clinking against the floor, their rhythm complementing the muffled [i]thuds[/i] of five more guards to the front of him dropping.
	Landing on the floor, he activated his rocket boots, and was propelled backward, sliding past the cluster of guards to his rear before the rockets lifted him off the floor plates. He shut them off, landing feet-first on the floor. He raised his arm and sent a burst from his flame projector into the nearest guards, temporarily removing them from the fight as they jumped to the floor and tried to roll out the flames, then picked up where he had left off with his PP10s.
	Without warning, his helmet comm beeped, partially yanking his attention from the gunfight, and in the corner of his vision he was that the hypernet transmission he had received about thirty seconds ago had automatically initiated. [i]Odd. Not many people have that kind of clearance for my comms…[/i]
	“Hello, Shadow.”
	Shadow threw himself against the wall of the corridor, grunting from the impact, as the guards sprayed fire in his direction. Distractedly, he glanced at who the caller was.
	“[i]Joas[/i]?” It’d been some time since Shadow had seen the other bounty hunter. “Yeah, it’s me, Shadow. Look, I’ve-“
	Shadow interrupted. “Not the time, Em. I’m a little busy here.” There were several decorative pillar-like obtrusions coming up from the floor at regular intervals to either side of the corridor. He had moved behind one of these, and was now pressing himself tightly against it, while a storm of bullets ricocheted off the sides of it. He winced slightly as a round skimmed his right leg just above his shin armor.
	The guards’ volley of fire lessened somewhat, probably because a few of them were reloading, and Shadow took a chance. Re-angling himself slightly, he threw his left arm around the side of the pillar and blindly fired several rounds off. He was rewarded with a couple of hits, evident by the cries of pain from the guards. But when he tried to draw his arm back, a bullet struck his knuckleplate. He hissed at the pins-and-needles shooting through his hand and forearm, and watched as his PP10 fell to the floor, several feet away.
	“Where are you?”
“Uzzab-IV.” A cursory glance at his hand revealed that the bullet had failed to punch through his knuckleplate, and he’d be fine other than a nasty bruise later.
	Em paused for a moment. “You’re hitting the bank, aren’t you?”
	“I might be. And if I am, I’m [i]really[/i] busy, which makes this a bad time to talk.” Two of the guards, seeing Shadow lose a weapon, came forward and into view, centering their weapons with him.
	“I’ll make this quick. Elzeep’s being invaded.”
	Shadow launched a high-aimed kick into the chest of the first guard, grabbing his carbine and activating his rocket boots. The guard’s clothing erupted into flames, while the force of the rocket boot hurled him back. Shadow was thrown in the opposite direction as well, slamming him into the wall for the second time.
	“The Hungarians never learn, do they?” He sprayed fire from the carbine he had wrenched from the first guard’s hands, dropping the second guard with over a dozen body hits.
	“It’s not the Hungarians this time.” Em hesitated. “It’s the Lin’pokkets. They’re back.”
	Shadow started to stand back up, but froze at the words.
	“You’re not serious.” A third guard, one of several who were rounding the pillar in the wake of the first two, landed a solid hit with his weapon’s buttstock on Shadow’s helmet. Shadow blinked against the blackness edging at his vision, then aimed his arm and sent another stream of flame at him and the three others who had just appeared behind him, rolling away from a wild flurry of bullets from the surprised guards’ carbines.
	“I wish I wasn’t. But here’s what I’ve got: ELZINT says they’ve lost a comms array, and they think the Lin’pokkets are involved. They’re hiring us to have a look. But I need as much firepower as I can get with these guys.”
	Shadow picked off the three flaming guards with his remaining PP10, then moved to grab his other.
	He heard the clatter of more footsteps, and to the end of the corridor eight more guards appeared.
Muttering a few more unpleasant remarks, this time directed at the bank’s schedule planners, he dashed behind the pillar, this time on the opposite side.
[i]I need to finish this.[/i] He angled both of his weapons around the pillar and sprayed fire and the guards, most of the shot going wildly off but managing to send them scrambling for cover.
Another activation of his rocket boots, and he was lifted and hurled low over the floor. He managed to pick up two of the carbines lying on the floor, then struck the opposite wall, this time managing to brace for the impact.
"When are you