Marianas loomed in the darkness of space like an enormous cloud-streaked sapphire, and from orbit it was nearly impossible to see the minute specks of landmass that protruded from its raging oceans. Enormous whirling super-storms crawled across the planet's surface, their huge irises visible from space as they grew and grew, unimpeded by the normal land-breaks of an average terrestrial planet. It had a strange, feral beauty about it.

In the passenger quarters of the Longstride, Darien stared out of the porthole as they drew closer to their destination. Behind him the rest of Hammerhead Squad, along with the accompanying members of Tundra and Vandal, lounged on seats and tables, surrounded by loose piles of equipment, conversing in a low steady buzz. Many of them continually moved from seat to seat; others paced restlessly, like caged animals.

After their initial Blink out to one of the satellite stations, the trip out to Marianas aboard the merchant ship had taken three long, slow days and the young operatives were getting tense. Their world moved quickly – being cooped up aboard a cramped space vessel for seventy-two hours didn't suit them.

"Not much of a holiday spot," Idas commented, peering out of the porthole next to him. "Good thing we all packed to go swimming."

Darien smirked. For this mission every single operative sported an extensive array of gear far beyond their normal allocation. Underneath his combat vest he wore a full body dry-suit, complete with boots fitted with a series of small grav-jets to aid his underwater movement. In addition to his lance-carbine and sidearm he had a hefty rectangular backpack filled with climbing equipment, sample testing gear, breathing apparatus, flares, portable lighting nodes, and a dozen other odds and ends he never thought he'd have use for. The operatives were going in prepared to deal with anything and everything beneath the waves.

"I'll just be glad to get off this rust bucket," he muttered. "I didn't think Phobos Class freighters were even still in service."

"Only the best for the Blink service, eh?" His friend gave him a playful nudge with one elbow.

As the planet continued to expand, filling his vision, his mind drifted back to the wild card, the spanner in the works; Kelsey Brannigan. Part of him knew it was just irrational. The girl was a good operative according to all her test scores and she displayed a quiet confidence in her own abilities. While things still seemed frosty between her and the others, Amber and Hekket had done enough to make her welcome, and over the two days before their departure he managed to remain civil. His argument wasn't with her and he knew it.

But he couldn't shut out the unease in the back of his mind. Untested, forced to join his unit, the best in the galaxy. There was something almost insulting about it. While she may have been impressive in her training, doing her job in the field would be very different.

"All hands," the voice of the Longstride's captain burst over the main speakers, overriding the low buzz of conversation between the operatives. "We are on approach to the Marianas gravity well. Passengers in hold B, please make your way to the shuttle bay now."

"That's us." Idas grinned.

Darien turned to the expectant faces of the Blink squads. "Okay boys and girls, that's our cue. Hope you all enjoyed the ride – time to go to work!" He made a circular motion towards the ceiling with one finger. "Pack up your troubles and move out."

None of them so much as grumbled, eager to be free from the confines of the Longstride's passenger hold. They swung on their backpacks and grabbed their weapons in a flurry of activity and without needing any further orders they filed out of the room. Each of them would have memorised the layout of the merchant ship the minute they'd gotten on board. Darien hiked his own pack high onto his shoulders, tightened its straps and picked up his lance-carbine from its position leaning against the wall beside him.

They walked to the door and he saw Brannigan, white-knuckled hands grasping her carbine tightly as she fell into step with the others. He exchanged a dubious look with Idas before striding up alongside her. It was time to swallow his resentment and start acting like a squad leader.

"Ease up there, Brannigan," he said gently. "You''ll snap the thing in half."

She looked at him sharply. "Eh...Sir?"

"Your carbine," he said. "Just, take it easy. I know you're nervous but try to relax, okay?"

"Y-yes, Sir."

"And stop calling me 'sir'."

"I...what?"

"My name is Darien." He shook his head with a smile. "And that's what everyone calls me. We're not marines."

"Oh." She looked nonplussed by the suggestion. "Sorry it's just...that's not how I was taught."

"Learn on the job," he replied, clapping her on the shoulder. "Just stay loose, do what I tell you to do and who knows, you might even enjoy yourself. In the meantime, we've got a shuttle to catch."

Brannigan hesitated, then gave him a nervous smile. It seemed that she had learned by the book, a book that Darien and his operatives used more as a rough guide than a manual. He hoped she could shake off the rigidity of her training before they landed planet-side.

Before they could enjoy a sense of freedom, the Blink operatives had to endure a brief period of even more cramped conditions aboard one of the Longstride's orbit to ground shuttles. They were packed into two rows of seats in the windowless rear compartment, eighteen young men and women braced for a journey into the unknown. He found him opposite an operative he knew well – the bronze-skinned leader of Vandal Squad, Mina Faruque. She'd been part of Blink almost as long as him, but without the accolade of leading the most highly regarded squad on the station.

It didn't seem to bother her unduly. She grinned at him, revealing pearly white teeth as the shuttle slammed into the atmosphere of Marianas, causing the shuttle to rock violently. He liked Mina. She had a cool head and led a reliable – if unremarkable – contingent of operatives. The leader of Tundra sat several seats down, and he was a different story.

Vass Juntaar had the temperament of a wolf and the features to match it. Ruthless and ambitious, he only recently gained command of a Blink squad, but already Tundra were racking up plaudits for their conduct on several missions. Darien didn't know the new leader well enough to have a fair opinion, but he didn't need someone to go rushing off in search of personal glory on a mission like this. Glancing down the shuttle he saw the boy, his dark hair hanging long and scruffy around his ears, and he seemed to be smiling to himself.

The shaking stopped abruptly, signalling that they'd cleared their entry and were cruising in the skies of Marianas, just minutes away from their destination. The roar of the shuttle's in-atmosphere boosters became clearly audible as they descended through the storm clouds. The ship's inertial compensators would protect them from the worst weather this planet could throw at them, but that didn't stop a little spark of anxiety igniting in the back of Darien's mind. On the ground, in command of a team, he could do anything. Trapped in a metal cigar-tube, he felt powerless.

The shuttle ride was a mercifully short one – evidently the pilot didn't want to spend any more time in Marianas's vicious skies than was necessary. The roar of the boosters receded into a low rumble as they descended. Without windows Darien couldn't know for certain where they were, but when he felt the jolt of impact and heard the echoing thud of the shuttle's undercarriage striking a solid surface he knew they'd landed. He unclipped the straps that fastened across his chest in an X-shape and stood up, retrieving his carbine from the upright cradle beside his seat. Mina rose to her feet across from him, and she made an extravagant sweeping gesture towards the exit and even threw in a bow.

He sighed, throwing her a withering look before stepping over to the ship's rear access door and pulling the release panel. The metal slab descended with a hiss of hydraulics and immediately a wall of water was thrown inside by a ferocious gust of wind, covering Darien and the three operatives nearby in icy rain. He blinked in surprise, then lowered his head as another wall of liquid smashed into the shuttle.

"This sucks," he heard someone grumble from somewhere in the compartment behind him.

"Might take my next leave here," Mina commented, pulling a sour face as she wiped water from her eyes.

Darien turned to face the operatives, shouting above the noise of the weather. "Alright everybody, it's just a little rain. It can't hurt you. Let's move it. The sooner we get off this landing pad the sooner we can get inside and dry off." Without another word he spun on his heel and jogged out into the torrential downpour.

The sky glared down at them, with dark clouds that roiled and churned like molten rock as they hurled curtains of water against the facility. All Darien could see when he emerged onto the landing pad was grey-blue ocean extending into the distance on every horizon. The water rose and fell, undulating in huge peaks and troughs, its waves smashing against the unwanted man-made structure in its midst.

The circular research station sat defiantly in the middle of the storm, a kilometre in diameter, protected by ram-shaped wave-breakers and dotted with lightning rods, anchored against the wrenching currents by a series of undersea gravity locks that held the floating platform in place. The structure formed a long squashed hemispherical blot upon the waves, lights blinking against the storm.

It took Darien a moment to orient himself before he saw an open door in the carapace of the facility, with a dark, waving silhouette standing in the aperture. After looking back to make sure all the operatives had exited the shuttle he tapped the communication bud in his left ear.

"Hammerhead Squad to Shuttle A-113," he shouted above the pounding rain.

"Go ahead."

"All personnel have disembarked – you are clear to depart. Thanks for the ride."

"Copy that, Hammerhead. Good luck," the pilot answered. He wasted no time in sending the shuttle skywards again, creating a spherical film of vaporised water as the boosters ignited again.

As the ship receded into the storm, Darien turned back and set off towards the open door of the research base. With the others in tow he jogged through the deluge, and even though the door was only a hundred yards away, by the time he reached it he was drenched. The dry suit kept the water and the cold from seeping into his bones, but he still had rivers flowing down his face and he shook himself like a dog. Once all eighteen operatives were inside the attendant sent the metal exterior door slamming shut, blocking out the sound of the storm.

The clump of heavy booted feet replaced the hammering rain and crashing waves, and Darien looked down the corridor to see two men and a woman, all clad in grey and blue combat fatigues – a group of the station's Colonial Marines no doubt. They halted in front of the Blink operatives who were still drying themselves after their impromptu shower. The leader of the group stepped forward, a tall, thickly muscled specimen with a shaved head and rock hard eyes the colour of charcoal.

"You must be the teams from Blink," the hulking individual declared.

"That's us," Darien replied, undaunted. He turned to face the man, blowing droplets of water from the tip of his nose. "Quite the storm out there."

"You've come on a good day," the marine returned with an impish smile. "Some times the storms are so violent the anchors slip and ships can't land." He extended a hand. "Lieutenant Arturo Tyndall, Tannachar Colonial Marines, 5th battalion, 9th platoon. I run security on this puddle."

Darien reached forward to shake hands, and found his hand enveloped in an incredibly strong grip, more than a greeting at any rate. He pretended not to notice, going through the motions. If the marine lieutenant wanted to intimidate him he'd need to do better than that.

"Squad Leader Darien Flint," he said. "Hammerhead Squad. This is my second in command, Niamh O'Toole, and Squad Leaders Faruque and Juntaar." The other operatives smiled and nodded in greeting. "I was told we'd be briefed on arrival."

Lieutenant Tyndall didn't answer immediately. He looked them up and down and appeared unimpressed. Darien could see it in his eyes – something in the burly soldier's mind was struggling to accept that he was expected to give over operational command to a group of teenagers. It wasn't the first time he'd had problems with the Colonial Marines in this regard. Many people found their first experience of the legendary agents of Blink to be...underwhelming.

"Problem, Lieutenant?" he enquired innocently.

"Not at all, so long as you keep in mind who's in charge here. You're a long way from your gadgets and gizmos – out here we're on our own."

"It's not my first time out, Lieutenant." Darien kept his tone level. "And I am in operational command of this mission. I expect your full cooperation."

"You don't give me orders, operative. I've been responsible for the security of this station for the past year and a half," Tyndall snapped. "So let's just get this straight-,"

"No, let's get this straight," Darien interrupted, taking a step towards the hulking marine. "Just so we understand each other, Lieutenant, I'm not interested in arguing jurisdiction with you. The facts are this: my operatives can go where you can't go; we can do things you can't do, and since this is not a military operation, whether you like it or not, my rank means more than yours. So, how about we skip the part where you pretend you can tell me what to do, and instead you take us to the briefing so we can do what we came here to do."

Lieutenant Tyndall bristled at the rebuke, understandably furious at being told what to do by someone who, in his eyes, was little more than a child. For a moment he stood there, inwardly seething with the two other marines looking on in confusion. Darien stood his ground and he felt Niamh and Idas move up on either side of him. He had no intention of entertaining the notion that this Lieutenant held any sway over the actions of the Blink operatives. Darien and his squads did not fall under military jurisdiction.

The staring match lasted for a long, uncomfortable moment, but in in the end, Tyndall gave a stiff, reluctant nod of ascent.

"As you wish," he grated. "Follow me. I hope you've got the skills to back up that mouth."