Damn Smith for knowing him so well.

Darien glared at the fast-approaching armoured sphere of Blink Station Alpha. He would never have abandoned the chance to come back to Blink, no matter the circumstances, and the head of Blink operations knew it. So here he was, ready to hurl himself back into the nightmare of Ravine for a second time. Huge asteroid-mounted rail guns tracked his little ship as he made his approach, his shuttle blurting out identification protocols every ten seconds to keep the gunners pacified.

With a heavy sigh, he reached forward and opened a comm channel.

"Station BL-Alpha, this is shuttle ID Gamma-14581, inbound from Thracia Prime, Blink ID code, Alpha Hammer One – redacted. Requesting permission for docking."

It took longer than he remembered for the dock controller to respond. Presumably they'd needed to rerun the clearances owing to his long enforced absence from the station. Eventually, though, the message came through.

"Shuttle Gamma-14581, this is BL-Alpha dock control. You are cleared for approach to docking bay 15D. Follow uploaded course instructions until you're inside our auto-tether range."

"Copy, BL-Alpha – following course. Gamma-14581 out." The comm channel fizzed with static and Darien tried to relax against the pilot seat, running through the motions that he'd not had to practice for months. The station loomed larger and larger, a metal planetoid hidden away in an asteroid field – an empty blip on the sensors for most passing ships.

Despite the circumstances that had brought him here, Darien couldn't suppress a small tremor of excitement at being back. The station's landing tether locked his trajectory a few moments later and he released the controls, letting the automated systems deposit him in the docking cradle. With a clunk, the docking arms fastened his shuttle in place and for a moment he just sat there, processing the sensation of being back where he knew he belonged.

After ordering his thoughts and calming his racing heart, he stood up and turned, triggering the shuttle's exit ramp as he did. The hiss of hydraulics tremored through the ship as the ramp descended, forming the final bridge back to Blink Station Alpha.

His Blink-issue combat boots made dull clunking sounds as he descended the ramp, out into the crisp, white-walled interior of Blink's primary command station. He stepped out into the hustle and bustle of the docking bay, a space ringing with bawling voices and engine thunder. The hot tang of burning fuel filled his nostrils, and everywhere he looked he saw columns of figures moving in organised mayhem.

A four-wheeled crawler rumbled past him, laden with equipment and four station technicians in shapeless grey overalls. He swerved around it and darted towards the nearest hanger entrance, into the white-walled tunnels, where Blink's unique brand of interstellar law enforcement was being applied. He was met there by a pair of marines, a man and woman clad in deep evergreen flak-jackets, berets, and armed with long rectangular assault rifles.

He recognised the man – Corporal Barker, a veteran of the station's defence detail. The hatchet-faced private standing alongside him must've been new. She didn't seem to recognise him either, her expression blank and she looked to her companion to take the lead.

"Darien Flint," Barker said with a sidelong grin. "How've you been, kid?"

"Getting by," he replied as they shook hands. "Feels good to be back."

"I'll bet it does."

"So you're my welcoming committee?"

"Guess so." The marine shrugged. "Normally you'd need to head down to admin and officially get signed off of your suspension, but Smith didn't think you'd want to waste time with red tape."

A short chuckle slipped from Darien's mouth. "Some things don't change."

"Come with us. He's got the whole crew in briefing room six," Barker said, gesturing for him to follow.

"The whole crew? You mean Hammerhead?"

"Much more than that. You'll see."

Darien frowned, but didn't press the point. Mind churning, he fell into step with the two marines, and they led him on a winding route through the alabaster hallways of Blink Station Alpha. They passed other operatives who instantly exchanged looks and hushed whispers, pointing; nodding in his direction as he swept by with his chaperones.

Evidently his suspension had caused greater waves than he thought.

On they went, passed the cube-shaped training rooms where new Blink operatives practised that unique art that marked them out from the rest of civilisation. Young men and women appeared and disappeared, flashing around to land on markers, protected from any lethal miscalculation by the room's frequency dampeners that closed them off from the outside world.

There were firing ranges that crackled with lance-carbine fire, leisure suites ringing with the whoops, laughs and jeers of off-duty operatives, and communal mess areas littered with young men and women, some in their dark Blink fatigues, others in casual wear, adding a spatter of colour to the monochrome functionality of the station.

Barker stopped at the closed metal door of briefing room six, thumbing the door tone. A moment later Smith's icy voice slithered from speakers embedded above the door.

"Go ahead."

"Corporal Barker here, sir," the marine said. "I've got Darien Flint here, reporting for duty."

"Thank you, Corporal. Send him in."

Barker stepped away from the panel and gave Darien a nod. "Alright, kid, time to get back in the saddle."

"Can't wait," he muttered. Then the door slid open and he stepped inside.

Only when he entered the briefing room did the full weight of the situation on Ravine become forcefully apparent. The operatives of Hammerhead squad were positioned nearest the door, along with an empty chair for him, but with a single glance he counted twenty-four other people, coming to five full teams including his own. His eyes flashed over the occupants and he saw, with a pang of trepidation, that Smith had assembled some of Blink's most experienced and skilled operatives for the mission to Ravine.

Closest to them sat Tundra Squad, led by the ambitious and ruthlessly effective Vass Juntaar. From the contact he'd been permitted with his friends on the station, he knew that Vass's unit had been racking up plaudits in his absence, rapidly rising to be one of the best squads on offer. The other boy gave him a nod, his wolf-like features morphing into a thin smile.

Next along the line, Robbie Taggart – 'Taggs' as he was known on the station – lounged in the middle of Vandal Squad. The shaggy-haired kid from Donia lacked Vass's cut-throat determination to be the best, but it hadn't stopped him cementing a reputation as a steady hand on the wheel. Vandal were nothing fancy, but they were a rock of reliability.

His dealings with the other two groups hadn't been as direct over his time as an operative, but Darien still knew their reputations. Rigel Squad, led by a tall, blonde girl named Vanna Proctor, earned their stripes in a series of board-and-bomb operations against a group of rogue privateers operating out in the fringe colonies. Blinking from ship to ship, Vanna and her team had single-handedly crippled seven enemy ships and escaped without so much as a scratch to show for it.

Last but not least came Bandle Cadduk, the dark-skinned, bright-eyed leader of Panther Squad. Their actions in hunting down and killing a vicious apex-predator, that was terrorising colonists on Barrcko III, had put them firmly on the map as a team with a cutting edge.

All in all, if it had been left up to him Darien doubted he could have assembled a more effective force.

He took his seat, feeling every pair of eyes in the room fix on him as he moved. No squad leader had ever been placed on an indefinite suspension before. None had disobeyed direct orders so completely. Darien was a legend and a curse all at the same time, but that hadn't stopped the pragmatic part of Smith's calculating brain bringing him back in when the need arose.

Despite the scrutiny that moved through the air like a grasping hand, he felt the tension in his gut uncoil ever so slightly when he sat down next to Niamh. She looked at him, her cybernetic eye gleaming like a polished emerald, and smiled. He passed his eyes over the others, their faces so familiar, yet strangely detached now. Over the period of his suspension, only Idas had been able to burn a small portion of his leave to visit him. The others ... he hadn't seen them in months. Uther looked relieved, but Amber and Hekket were harder to read. One by one they met his gaze, and he could see that the schism he'd opened through his actions on their last mission together was still open wide.

If he wanted to lead this team effectively, he would need to mend some bridges before they shipped out.

But that was for another time. Darien forced the tension and unease to the little dark box in his mind as Smith entered the room. The grey-suited man seemed to glide across the floor, his walk impossibly level as he moved to the head of the room where the briefing screen loomed.

"Glad you could join us," Smith said, his voice cool and calm, as though Darien had never even been away. "Now that everyone is here, we can begin."

Operatives exchanged curious looks the briefing room screen that loomed behind Smith flashed into life. The centre of the display was dominated by a sphere that Darien instantly recognised as Ravine from the topography. Lines extended from the central sphere like a brainstorming map, each connecting to a block of text with scattered images. A quick examination showed that each protrusion detailed an act of sabotage, terrorism, or somewhere in between.

"For those of you unfamiliar with it," Smith began. "Ravine is the primary planet of the Gelloix System, on the edge of the Mouzer-Kantanovic network. It is an isolated, insular planet with a history of civil unrest."

And then some, Darien thought grimly as the man continued.

"In recent weeks the situation has deteriorated from bad to worse," Smith continued. "What started out as a series of unconnected grievances among the more disenfranchised citizens of the northern continent has mutated into an organised uprising against the local colonial government."

He paused for a moment, letting the implications sink in. Darien glanced at the other operatives in the room, gauging their reactions. Most of them looked faintly stunned, some were impassive; Vass Juntaar had a disgusted expression on his face. He folded his arms, sinking back against the seat, knowing he was the only person in the room who really understood how deep the divisions in Ravine's population ran.

"As we sit here, two full regiments of the planetary militia, together with a substantial portion of the disaffected civilian populace, have officially renounced the local government and thrown their backing behind this individual."

The same grainy footage Darien had seen just a few days ago replaced the image of Ravine. The dark figured strode back and forth, wildly gesturing to push his crowds to greater heights of disobedience. Eyes in the room narrowed as his companions examined the figure.

"Currently colonial intelligence are working to locate this man, but until they do, steps must be taken to contain the situation. Make no mistake, we are inches from Ravine falling into a civil war."

"Idiots," Vass muttered.

"Mr Juntaar – something to add?" Smith turned a searching eye on the young man.

Vass shrugged. "Makes no sense. They depend on the colonial supply shipments for the medicine on that planet. Fight with the government and bang goes that medicine."

"So that's your solution," Darien spat sharply, glaring at him. "Hold the whole damn planet to ransom? You know actual people live there, right?"

"It's people who are starting this, not us." Tundra's leader snorted dismissively.

"The point is to calm things down," Bandle chimed in. "Not make them worse. We start just withholding medicine we'll push more people over to the other side."

"You have to show that there are consequences," Vass persisted. "They can't just decide they don't want to play anymore, and still get everything from the supply lines that keep them alive. You cut off that supply and this thing'll burn out in a month."

Darien sat up straight, swivelling to face him. "We're not laying siege to the planet, Vass! Even if you were right, how much damage do you think'll be done in a month? What's the cost going to be?"

"If it stops a shooting war then the cost will be worth it," Vass snarled. "I'm not an idiot, Darien, but if you weigh up the pros and cons it balances out."

Taggs spread his hands wide, looking around in amazement. "This is mental. Are we seriously considerin' this? I'm not going to be part of getting civilians killed."

"Well, it might not be up to us."

Darien found a well of anger churning in his gut as he looked at the other squad-leader's arrogant face. Whatever his successes so far, Vass was a hothead and his solution to the problem ignored far too many variables.

"We are not currently considering any punitive measures," Smith told them quietly after a moment of simmering silence. "Our mission is preventative. You will be seconded to the Colonial Navy units en route to Ravine, to aid them in any way they deem necessary. We are not going to withhold vital medicines from an essentially blameless civilian population."

"When do we go?" Vanna asked quickly, cutting off any objection to Smith's declaration.

"You will have forty-eight hours to familiarise yourselves with the incident reports from Ravine's local authorities, and the planetary layout – major cities, transit arteries, orbital stations and supply line connections. You will then Blink to Beltock's Wake where the Navy's response group is currently assembling. Once there, contact with the military authorities – you'll be given quarters on the troop carrier Iron Glacier and then take the ten day flight out to Ravine.

"Despite all of your opinions, Mr Juntaar is quite correct when he says the final course of action will be directed from the command officer of the Naval detachment. Now, I have made clear that there are limitations on what they should expect from you when it comes to any kind of combative roll, but beyond that you will be under their direct command. You will obey the orders of the military officers without question. If you do have concerns with actions you are being asked to undertake, your squad leaders – only your squad leaders – have leave to take the matter up with your immediate military officer in private. Is that understood?"

A murmur of agreement passed through the group and Smith nodded. "Very well then."

"Sir?" Vass said.

"Yes?"

"Who has operational command of the Blink detachment?"

Smith didn't hesitate. "Darien will be in overall command. He is from Ravine and has a clear understanding of the politics of the situation, as well as the local culture. His experience makes him the obvious choice." His eyes hardened as he looked at Vass. "This is not up for debate."

The other squad leader's jaw tightened but he didn't press the point. He flashed an angry glance in Darien's direction, but Darien forced himself not to react. He simply folded his arms and leaned back in his seat again. Smith's announcement gave him no real satisfaction. He'd been off-duty for months and, although he'd done his best to keep his skills sharp, he couldn't help feeling apprehensive about taking command of a mission of this importance. On a planet he'd hoped never to set foot on again.

"If there's nothing else," Smith said icily. "You're dismissed."