The shotgun kicked back against Madison so hard that it nearly sent her flying, and the blast went crashing through the window just opposite, bending the steel frame out as it went.

The would-be target had managed to hit the deck just as the weapon went off; as she recovered from her moment of shock, Madison could see that it was black, four-limbed and had a long serrated claw protruding from its right wrist. She blinked, and it looked a lot less alien.

More to the point, it looked like an OSA security guard with a large knife in his paw.

Brewster was yelling. "Madison, stop! It's one of the guards!"

The guard moaned and lifted his head up. Madison recognized him as the Husky who had been speaking of the Vermin Wars back on the OSA ship. His eyes fixed on her. "I nearly got shot with my own damn weapon!" he squawked, pointing at the shotgun.

Madison gasped as she regained control. She'd acted rather rashly; perhaps her diagnostic hadn't been entirely accurate, maybe something had been damaged in the fall.

Or maybe she'd just been scared.

Anyway, she decided to put that to the back of her mind and focus on the situation. Another figure had appeared in the doorway; this one was a paunchy female Raccoon with a look of shock and concern on her face. She took in the situation, her expression only deepening. "I heard shots." She looked to the guard, who was still prostrate on the floor. "Is he..."

"No, I'm not," the guard said hotly. He struggled to his feet.

Brewster was on his feet as the Raccoon – Whitney, Madison realized – entered. "Whit!" he cried, running over to her and embracing her in a rough hug. "You're okay!"

The chubby Raccoon giggled as she hugged him back. "We're fine, Brewski. We're fine."

Brewster pulled out of the hug and thumped her on the shoulder. "You were so stupid, Whit!" he barked. "We should've gone back! Why didn't you listen to us?"

Whitney put her paws up. "Hey! Hey! Hey! What the hell are you..."

"If you'd listened to us, we wouldn't be down here right now looking for you!" Brewster went on. He flicked a paw at Madison. "Madison was nearly killed."

He paused at that, glancing back at Madison. "Is that the right term...?"

Madison nodded. It sure felt like it.

Whitney was standing her ground. "You take risks," she growled, showing her teeth. "You take risks in this job, Brewster. And I took one. Sometimes it doesn't work out. I'm sorry that the toaster nearly got its warranty invalidated..."

"Thanks for that," Madison snapped, feeling deeply slighted. It was true, she was technically mission-specific equipment, but to come out with a term like that was highly insulting.

"...but we all do what we think is right," Whitney went on, not skipping a beat, her tirade ramping up into a roar. "And when I'm leading the team, you do what I tell you. You do not make me look incompetent!"

"Look at yourself, Whit!" Brewster shouted. "You're soaking wet and a couple of thousand metres from where you should be! What else do you look like, but incompetent?"

Dog and Raccoon stood growling at each other, ready to lunge at each other's throats. Luckily the arrival of several more familiar faces interrupted that tense moment. Madison recognized them as Milan Irglova and another OSA guard.

Milan the burly Akita stepped into the control room, taking in the scene. "We heard yelling," he said. "Everything okay?" He noticed Brewster and Madison. "Oh! Hi, you two. Came down here after us, eh?" He grunted as he hobbled over to the table. "Think I sprained my ankle on the way down."

"Hey, Milan," Brewster sighed, directing a venomous glance at Whitney before sitting down next to Milan.

Something occurred to Madison then. The party was short two. "Where's Maizy? And that third guard?"

The Husky spoke up. "We lost them on the way down. When we climbed out of that pool and the tunnel caved in behind us, they got trapped on the other side."

Madison frowned. "That tremor just recently? We got caught up in that." We might have caused it, her mind blathered. She shut it up.

Brewster was frowning as well. "Wait a mo: why didn't we run into them when we came down the cliff? I mean, you were out, Madison, but I was still up. The only way here was that other tunnel, and they must have come up this way. But why aren't they here?" The mutt scratched his unruly hair in confusion.

The other guard, a stout black-furred Cat, cleared his throat. "Anyway, we found a map of the facility and found a back way into this area." He chortled shortly. "Should've just taken the other one."

"I hope that little runt isn't calling for help somewhere," the Husky snorted. "We'd never hear her."

The two guards fell about laughing. "Oh, shut up," Whitney snarled at them.

The Cat laughed harder, this time at the fulminating Whitney. "Whoa-ho-ho! Whaddaya gonna do, fat-ass? Sit on me?"

Madison felt the tension spike to breaking point, but luckily Milan stepped in, getting unsteadily to his feet and getting in between the guards and his leader. "Enough," the Akita said calmly, putting his paws up, and the noise fell away, dissipating to enraged breathing. He looked to Madison and Brewster. "Anyway, when we got cut off the by the rock fall, we found a map chart and made our way up here. The map said there's a radio and medical supplies." He flexed his ankle. "And I could use some painkillers."

"We still need to look for Maizy and..." Madison looked to the guards, much as she didn't want to. "Who's your guy...?"

"Lieberman," the Husky told her. "I'm Tognazzi, and this is Abernathy." He indicated his cohort, who didn't do anything. "I see Rankin couldn't come down here himself. Twat." His eyes went to his shotgun, which Madison realized she was still holding. "May I have my weapon?"

Madison nodded and handed it to him. "Sorry about nearly killing you with it," she said with a smile. A little levity would help improve the situation, she thought.

Tognazzi sighed. "Never gonna live that down. How 'bout we keep it between us?" He took his gun.

Abernathy snickered. "Mate, I'm spreading it everywhere."

"Dick," Tognazzi growled. He handed his large hunting knife to Madison. "Here. Think you'll be a little less dangerous with that."

Madison took it. "Thanks. I'm not a combat model anyway."

"It shows," Tognazzi scoffed.

"Radio?" Brewster asked suddenly, picking up on Milan's point. "There's a radio down here?"

"It should still work," Milan said. "This complex is geothermal, so it'll have power at least." He chuckled. "And there may be trinkets to salvage."

"Two things we didn't think of," Madison said to Brewster, a smile spreading across her petite muzzle. She was instantly reminded of Maizy and the last guard, and was immediately sobered.

Brewster nodded. "Right. Radio. Let's get in touch with the Laika."

The communications centre was housed in one of the smaller buildings opposite the control tower, and was equipped with an outworld-capable radio system. Whitney wasted no time in pulling up a chair and switching it on. The radio activated with a bray of static, and she keyed in the Laika's frequency. "This is Team One Leader Whitney Arkwright," she called.

"You forgot your middle name, Marigold," Brewster said deadpan.

Whitney snorted; Madison was a little relieved to see their camaraderie begin to return. "This is Team One Leader Whitney Arkwright, transmitting from Shiffrin Subterranean Mining Facility Sixteen," she repeated. "Come in, Laika. Do you read me?"

The radio coughed again as a clear voice came through from the other end. "We read you, Team Leader Arkwright," said the male speaker; Madison recognized him as the Spaniel that had preceded the captain during the briefing. "One of your members just reported you missing. What is your status?"

"Apart from a sprained ankle, we're okay," Whitney replied. "We are missing two members, one of ours and a security officer. Request permission to search for them."

"That's a negative, Team Leader Arkwright," was the response. "Please return to the ship."

Whitney frowned. "But..."

"We'll dispatch a team to look for them," the officer told her. "For now, you are to return to the Laika for medical assessment. Team Two has already secured the research from the wreck, so your brief has been fulfilled."

"Bloody Tracey!" Whitney barked. Her demeanour returned to professional in an eyeblink. "Got it, Laika. We'll see you soon." She left the frequency and stood. "Come on, let's go."

Madison spoke up. "We've set up some safety lines up back the way we came."

Milan provided the reply. "No need. We've already found a way out."

"Where?" Brewster asked.

"Remember that so-called smugglers' base?" Whitney said. "Turns out it's a supply shed for this place." She spun a finger to encompass the mine. She paused to help Milan up from his seat. "You alright?"

The Akita nodded as he got to his feet. "Yeah. Painkillers are kicking in."

Madison still felt worried about Maizy. "Are we really not going to look for the others?"

"You heard the guy," Whitney said. "We haven't been given clearance to do so. Plus Milan's injured. He needs treatment."

Madison felt helpless. And it was confusing her. She was specifically designed to comply with orders when given them by a superior, and that superior in this case was evidently Grant Trennaman, First Officer of the salvage ship Laika. So why was she considering countermanding those orders?

Maybe the fall from the cliff really had done her damage.

"It's okay, Madison," Brewster said to her quietly as the others began to leave. "They're still here somewhere. But it's not our job to worry about them now."

Madison scratched her ear nervously, another inbuilt quirk of hers. "Look, you saw that video. What if that... Barghest thing got Maizy?"

The mutt licked his muzzle, clearly conflicted as well. "Madison, sometimes miners just go nuts. Look at where they have to work." He indicated the cramped radio room and the cavern around them. "There was nothing in that recording to show anything otherwise. It's an actual thing that just happens sometimes."

Madison knew all of that was true. "Okay."

Brewster gave her a smile. "C'mon, let's go."

"Whit, what are you doing?" Brewster asked tiredly as he and Madison passed Whitney rooting about in one of the carts. The Raccoon was stuffing crystals of volainium into her storage pack, trilling and chittering happily.

"You're joking, right?" she asked Brewster hotly as she levered herself out. "We've just missed out on pillaging an OSA research ship. If I'm walking away from this job without anything from that, I'm walking away with this." She reached back into the cart and took another pawful.

Brester sighed, a slight grin on his muzzle. "Whit, you are unbelievable. You do know people died down here, right?"

Whitney snuffled with amusement. "Yeah, right. Another load of miners losing their minds? Front-page stuff."

"We've got a movie and everything," Madison told her, a statement that Whitney apparently found hilarious for some reason.

Milan woofed from where he had stopped to lean. "Whit, c'mon. Let's move it!"

"All right, all right," Whitney grumbled. "Way to take the fun out of this."

Up ahead, the guards were leading the way out toward the rearmost tunnel, weapons up. One of them – Abernathy – suddenly stopped and motioned for Tognazzi to do the same. "The hell is that?" Madison heard him say.

"What's goin' on?" Whitney asked of them. "Hey! You two. What're you doing? Let's go, for the millionth time!"

Abernathy turned his head slightly to look back at her. "Something's coming out of the tunnel up ahead."

The rest of the group hurried up to the two guards, who were still deliberating. Madison looked past them into the tunnel, and a sudden spike in her self-preservation programming gave her a jolt of apprehension. Two tiny, glowing eyes were emerging from the tunnel, followed by a streamlined head with pointed, swept-back ears and a long, lithe body supported by slender but powerful-looking legs ending in hooked claws. The creature looked vaguely feline as it whipped a lethal-looking tail about behind it, and arcs of energy crackled from its cobalt-coloured, reflective hide to a nearby mine cart and anything else metallic in the immediate vicinity.

Brewster turned a little toward Madison. "Are you thinking that's our Barghest?" he whispered to her.

"Actually, I'm thinking that we're in deep trouble," Madison whispered back, her eyes fixed on the approaching... thing.

The creature opened its muzzle to reveal rows of razor-sharp teeth and growled at its audience. The arcs of energy intensified, throwing sparks everywhere.

"Permission to engage?" Tognazzi asked Whitney, aiming his shotgun squarely at the creature.

"Let's see if it's dangerous," Whitney murmured, her face so utterly calm it could only be restraining complete panic.

The mysterious animal howled and charged at them, its mouth wide and tail thrashing madly.

"Okayit'sdangerousshootit!" Whitney yelped.

Tognazzi pumped off a shot. The projectile framed the incoming monster as both closed on each other...

...and the creature disappeared.

"What the crap?" Tognazzi yapped as his shot blew the opposite wall apart, spraying rock.

"It's up there!" Milan yelled, pointing at the low roof of the nearest building. The cat-thing had suddenly reappeared on top of it, and it let out an ear-smiting yowl as it jumped down to the floor, rushing at the two guards.

Abernathy let out a yowl to match and peppered his maddened target with a volley of machinegun fire. Several of the shots hit home, causing the alien to coil and yelp, but it disappeared, reappeared nearer Abernathy, and still kept coming.

Tognazzi aimed his shotgun and let off another round, catching the monster squarely and throwing it to the floor. Silvery gore pooled around the creature as it let out a despairing moan and slumped down, dead. A final crackle of energy marked its passing, and all was quiet once more.

"Okay, now we really have to go!" Whitney squeaked.

"We got more of them!" Tognazzi shouted, aiming his shotgun at the tunnel mouth. Three more of the feline aggressors materialized from the gloom and came skittering toward the group.

"Run for it!" Abernathy yelled. "We'll cover you."

Madison and Brewster both broke into flat sprints as the guards laid down fire on the aliens. Madison gasped as she nearly brushed one of the animals and felt a surge of power brush her arm. Static blocked her vision for a second, and she fought to keep from falling.

The guards' gunfire faded behind her as she tried to keep up with Brewster. The skinny mongrel was definitely part Whippet, she thought sardonically despite herself. And in spite of her roly-poly physique, Whitney was a damn good runner. Milan was making good progress, too. It was amazing what pain suppressors could do.

"It should be a straight run from here!" Whitney was saying. Light from overhead fixtures played across her silver fur as she ran. "Knew it wasn't just a smuggling outpost."

"Yeah, I thought that stuff was pretty low-value," Brewster puffed.

A faint light suddenly appeared ahead, a thinly-defined square of yellow set into the ceiling. Beneath it was a short ladder, and a release catch dangled invitingly.

Whitney was the first to reach the ladder, and she heaved herself up onto its rusted rungs, reaching up for the catch. She grabbed it and the hatch above swung open, nearly dropping her to the floor of the tunnel.

Panicked footfalls came charging up the tunnel from behind them, and Madison turned to see Tognazzi hurrying along. "They're coming!" he cried.

Whitney looked down at him. "Where's the other one?"

"They got him," Tognazzi panted. "Two of 'em surrounded him and just... tore him up." He tensed as a yowl echoed from somewhere behind him. "Let's move it, now!"

Whitney sped up the ladder, followed somewhat shakily by Milan, and Brewster let Madison go before him. Tognazzi brought up the rear, looking back as something growled at him. He let off another blast from his shotgun and clambered up through the hatchway as a claw swiped at his leg. "Close the hatch!" he yelled.

Milan hauled the hatch up as one of the creatures howled and tried to keep it open, but the Akita was too fast, and a defeated, muffled roar reverberated from beneath the closed portal. It clanged and shook a few times, but the monster apparently got the message and the noise ceased.

Silence descended once more as everyone collapsed to the floor. "What the hell was that?" Whitney exclaimed between exhausted breaths.

"I'm thinking they got Maizy as well," Milan said solemnly. "And the other guard."

"The Barghest," Madison mumbled, that video playing over and over in her head. "It was the Barghest."

"One of the miners was talking about it in the video we found," Brewster explained to the others. "It must have killed them, too."

"It didn't kill us," Tognazzi said evenly. "And that's what counts." The Husky stood and made for the nearby stairwell. "Anyone else coming?"

The others struggled to their feet and followed him up the rickety steel stairs.

The stairs went on for a while, but eventually, after a few landings at empty subsidiary storerooms and switchbacks, Madison recognized the cellar in which they had looked through the boxes of goods. "This looks familiar," Whitney said, sounding dazed.

Another short flight later and the Pomattan sun was shining brightly on Madison's fur as she emerged back onto the beach. Some of the excavation vehicles were returning to the Laika, which was still docked on the water nearby, and some of the Volvo dump trucks were loaded with a material that glinted in the light.

Whitney groaned as she caught sight of it. "Oh, what?"

"They must have hit volainium on the way down," Brewster said.

Whitney growled and stamped her foot, raising a tiny cloud of sand. "Well, they're not getting my stash."

"Hey, Whitney!" A jolly female voice brought everyone's attention somewhere off to the left, where a female Red Panda was running up. Madison recognized her as the salvager who had tried to snaffle Whitney's box of stuff back down in the storeroom.

"Oh, sod off, Tracey," Whitney said sorely. "Go bask in the success of a job well done with the other teams while I squeeze water out of my undies."

Tracey giggled. "Oh, Whitney! Good to see you're okay. We were worried about you when we heard you were missing."

"Worried about not being able to rub anything in my muzzle, yeah," Whitney muttered. "Seriously, Tracey, get lost."

Tracey shrugged. "See ya back on the ship, guys," she said to everyone else, and scampered off.

"I hate her," Whitney snarled.

"She seemed okay to me," Madison said, unable to see anything off about Tracey.

"She would," Whitney sighed. She motioned to Milan and Brewster. "Let's go meet up with Henriette. Bet she's desperate to see us."

Brewster looked behind him for a moment as he ambled towards the Laika's boarding ramp. "Well, that was Pomatta," he said quietly.

Madison looked with him for a second before heading for safety, trying not to think too hard about Maizy. "I won't be hurrying back."