She felt like the weight of the universe had been lifted from their shoulders upon their return to Blink Station Alpha. Even now Amber could still feel the residual adrenaline from her part in the venture as she guided the shuttle into the asteroid curtain around their home. While Vandal Squad had Blinked back after the mission, Hammerhead had stayed behind and secured Tannis Brock for transport aboard a penal shuttle craft.

So maybe the shaking of her hands had more to do with the fact that he was locked in the rear compartment less than twenty meters from where she sat. Darien had taken no chances; Brock was manacled, sedated and strapped into one of the chairs under guard. Idas and Uther sat with their prisoner in the rear, armed with volt guns and watching him constantly. Until they could hand him over to the marines of the station's security detail none of the operatives wanted Brock to do anything more than breathe.

When they entered the station's main docking bay she could see that Smith wasn't taking chances either. No less than five fully armed Colonial Marines stood waiting at their designated bay. When they disembarked Tannis Brock's unconscious form was bundled unceremoniously onto a stretcher and strapped tightly into place. Then the marines took the Ghost away, all the while keeping their guns trained on him.

Amber gratefully watched him disappear out of sight and her whole body relaxed. Their job was done, for the moment. The five other operatives of Hammerhead Squad gathered alongside her, all of them gazing down the passage where Brock had been taken. They exchanged looks, but for a long time no-one spoke.

Then she saw a grin crack Idas's face. He looked at them.

"Damn we're good," he declared. "We just took down a former Ghost! How many other Blink teams can say that, huh?"

"Not one," Niamh concurred. For a moment the silence seemed to swell like an intake of breath, and then the dam broke.

All the relief and elation came spilling out of them in a torrent of whoops, laughs, hugs and shrieks. Amber closed her eyes, letting her head rock back and a smile cross her face. Then she started laughing – she couldn't help it. Someone hugged her; she didn't even look to see who it was before returning the fierce embrace. When she released her hold she realised it was Hekket who stood with something approaching joy stamped on his youthful features. Before she could say anything, however, Darien stepped over to her, clapping a hand onto her shoulder and giving an affectionate squeeze.

"I think someone deserves a little more credit," he said. "That was a hell of a piece of flying, Amber."

"Well, now you know why you keep me around," she laughed.

Uther clicked his fingers. "I knew there was a reason!"

"Belt up." She gave the gangly operative a good-natured shove. As her elation began to subside, the enormity of what they'd accomplished – of what she'd accomplished – finally started to sink in. A seventeen-year-old girl had just gotten the better of one of the colonial military's most dangerous killing machines. Part of her surged with pride at the fact she'd out-flown the man. The other part of her was simply glad to be alive at the end of it.

"Well, well, well! Sounds like the heroes are home, eh?"

Amber turned at the sound of the singular accent to find Taggs standing in the corridor with the rest of Vandal Squad flanking him. They wore the casual fatigues of the Blink operatives – dark hooded jacket and trousers without the additional heft of armour and ordinance. He gave them a wiry grin. "Have a nice wee trip back?"

Darien shrugged. "Can't complain."

"Glad to hear it." Taggs strode forward and the two squad leaders shook hands firmly. Then Taggs motioned with a jerk of his head towards the passage behind him. "Now, if you're all done pattin' each other on the back, Smith wants to see the lot of us for a debrief right now. You best go dump your gear."

"Doesn't waste time, does he?" Hekket muttered.

Amber smiled, swaying to one side and bumping him with her hip. "Like we expected anything less."

"I guess not."

"Hey, maybe we'll get some medals."

He gave her a withering look. "I'd sooner have a holiday."

Amber couldn't argue with that, but any holidays would have to wait as they followed Darien through the station halls to deposit their combat gear. As they walked she became suddenly and acutely aware of how unclean she felt, having spent hours cooped up in the gunship cockpit in the sweltering heat of Detton-Mouré. She felt grimy; the Blink armour felt clinging and oppressive. Never mind a holiday; right now she would settle for a shower.

She also noticed the looks they received from other operatives they passed. Since the ill-fated venture on Titan Aquilla a year and half ago, Hammerhead Squad had been considered the top unit on the station – they'd always commanded a lot of respect. Now though the other teams looked at them with something approaching awe. She lowered her gaze, feeling blood rush to her cheeks when she heard their hushed whispers. The more confident operatives didn't bother with whispers. Several of them approached to congratulate them, shaking hands, patting backs and more than one good-natured shriek of a whistle followed them down the passages.

It seemed that news travelled fast on Blink Station Alpha.

Eventually they emerged from the labyrinth and into the barrack room. Amber couldn't strip out of the combat gear fast enough. She tossed the combat vest carelessly into her locker, slung the plates of armour onto their hooks and placed the lance-carbine into its cradle. Once she'd slipped the silky hooded jacket onto her body a measure of calm descended on her. She felt as though things were back to normal again. Everything on Detton-Mouré faded into the backdrop of her mind like a dream. The locker slid closed and she exhaled a long breath, resting her head against the door as the exertion of the past few days came rushing back to her.

She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, then heard Hekket's voice. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm okay." Amber turned, leaning against the locker and meeting his gaze. "It's just been a long couple of days, you know?"

The sandy-haired operative smiled sympathetically. "Then let's just get through this debrief. I think after that we've all earned a breather."

*

When they stepped into the room for their after-action report Amber immediately noticed something strange about Smith.

He looked happy.

As the operatives took their seats the head of Blink operations looked at them with satisfaction, his neatly manicured hands clasped together resting on the table. Behind the spectacles his eyes gleamed with a triumphant shine as he watched them. Amber slid gratefully into a chair alongside Hekket, letting her body melt against the back-rest.

Waiting in the room already were the members of Vandal Squad, a unit now elevated into fame for their part in the capture of one of the most dangerous individuals in the galaxy. Taggs lounged in his seat, his face impassive, but she knew that for him, a relatively new squad leader, the success of their mission would be an impressive addition to his record.

Once everyone had taken a place at the table Smith's smile broadened. "Welcome back," he said. For a moment none of them really knew what to say. Amber glanced around – some of the others exchanged looks; Darien's gaze remained rooted on their commander. Then Smith straightened up in his seat.

"First, I would like to say, well done," he told them. "All of you." He made a sweeping gesture towards them with one hand. "The mission on Detton-Mouré wasn't one I wanted to force upon you, but you have done yourselves, and Blink, proud."

An appreciative rumble passed through the twelve operatives. Amber couldn't contain a smile, pride swelling in her chest.

"Tannis Brock's days of kidnapping are over," Smith continued. "He will spend his time here under twenty-four hour guard. Once we have extracted all the information we can from him, he will be turned over to the Ghost Cadre. They can decide the punishment that best suits his crimes."

"They should space him," Niamh snorted dismissively. "The guy's a cold blooded murderer."

Amber looked at the other girl in surprise. Niamh didn't seem angry, however. Her face was an expressionless mask, her cybernetic eye twinkling innocently. She glanced at the others, but the only other person who seemed taken aback by the outburst was Hekket. He caught her eye; gave a slow shake of his head.

"That decision is not for us to make," Smith replied as casually as ever. "He's was a Ghost. If they wish to remove him permanently then they will do so. We have more pressing matters to attend to. Brock is one man. Judging by your preliminary reports he has some very well equipped sponsors."

Niamh shrugged but didn't press the point.

"So this shuttle – I know the variant that you've described. It seems to be a similar design to the navy's Bulldog Pattern assault craft, normally slated for ship-to-ship boarding actions."

"Bulldogs don't have that kind of speed," Amber said. "Even after ramming through a solid wall we could still barely keep up with him."

"Indeed." Smith nodded knowingly. "The salvage teams on Detton-Mouré are extracting what they can from the wreckage now, but we can safely assume that its engine was not standard issue." He drummed his fingers against the table, brow furrowing in thought.

"What about the others – the poor sods he burned?" Uther put in.

Smith shook his head. "He knew exactly what that bomb would do. We are trying to match their DNA with colonial records, but the damage from the blast was extensive. And it completely destroyed any data in the console you saw. Frankly, Tannis Brock is all we have. I had hoped we might force him into a mistake, but he is too smart for that. No transmissions were sent from his shuttle and the planetary buoys detected no disturbances in the local volume. If our mystery ship was present it kept a safe distance."

"He would rather be snatched himself than risk giving them away," Darien agreed grimly. "So where does that leave us?"

"Sounds t'me like someone needs to have a nice long chat wi' him," Taggs grunted.

"Indeed."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Idas straightened up in his seat. "Let's go get Ghost-boy talking."

"He's not going to tell us anything just because we ask," Amber said. She remembered the look of contemptuous defiance that had lingered on Tannis Brock's face right up to the instant she'd shot him with the volt gun. It would take something special to break down the man's resolve. "He'll die first."

"She's right," Hekket agreed, nodding. "We all saw what he was willing to do to protect himself."

"Everyone's got a trigger," Darien retorted. "He's got nowhere to go and nothing to gain from hiding information from us. It might take some time, but we can get it out of him."

"You will not be questioning anyone," Smith said quietly, an edge of hardness creeping into his voice.

"What? He's our collar!"

"None of you are experienced in interrogation and Tannis Brock is not some run-of-the-circuit prisoner. He is trained to withstand questioning under the most invasive procedures. Getting information from him will not be easy."

"Well...so who's going to dig it out of him?" Darien demanded.

"I will."

The smile was well and truly gone now, and Amber felt a shudder go up her spine. She wouldn't have wished an interrogation at Smith's hands on anyone. Even now after a year and a half as an operative she knew next to nothing about him, but she didn't need a dossier to know that the man hadn't gotten into his position by being nice to people. Silence hung in the air as the implications sank in.

She saw the conflict on Darien's face. He wanted to be involved – she could see that much – and she didn't blame him. Her squad leader had enough natural sharpness and grit that under normal circumstances he'd have made a fearsome interrogator. But the circumstances were far from normal.

She caught his eye; gave a tiny shake of her head. His jaw tightened but he leaned back in his seat, folding his arms. No-one in the room could deny Smith's logic. Whether Tannis Brock was their prize or not, interrogations were not within the remit of the Blink operatives. The colonial powers trained far more dangerous people for that task.

"Alright," Darien relented. "Just...just keep us in the loop."

"Of that you can be sure," Smith told them. "In the meantime, I think we can spare your services for a day. The next twenty-four hours are yours to do with as you please. Relax; rest. I'll let you know once I have the information we need." He relaxed into his chair, his fingers interlaced and hands resting on the table in front of him. His eyes glinted dangerously in the light. "You're dismissed."