Blink: Phantom (Book 3)

17

It took a lot to dig out Amber's temper, but right now she could feel it burning, churning underneath the pain in her ribs where the burst of fire had gashed her armour. The defensive gear had proven its worth yet again, deflecting the worst of the damage and leaving her with a broken rib from the impact. Without the armour she'd have been killed on the spot, and now things had taken on a very personal edge.

She wasn't alone in that feeling from the looks of it. The assembled operatives of Hammerhead Squad made for a grim sight, waves of pent up frustration beating from them like hard radiation. Idas lounged in a seat with his arms folded, now sporting a ragged cut running from just above his right eye straight down to his jaw. He'd been lucky that the damage had been superficial only. Uther now had bloody scrape on the side of his head where the knife pommel had struck, and both Darien and Niamh were battered and bruised after their close encounter with Tannis Brock.

Frankly, they were all lucky to be alive, but right now Amber felt anything but. Just like that they'd gone from having the enemy's prized asset in their custody, to having nothing in the space of a few short hours. Her broken rib ached despite the nano-splints that currently held it together to heal; a painful reminder of what they'd lost. She felt humiliated. How – how – had he managed to break out of Blink Station Alpha? This was meant to be the most secure colonial instalment ever built.

She gnawed on a thumbnail as they waited for Smith. She shuddered to think of the impact the incident would have on their commander's cold, ruthless demeanour. At the end of the day the operatives of Hammerhead Squad had had Brock in their sights, but he got away anyway. No matter how many times she reminded herself that their adversary was a militarily trained assassin, it still felt like a failure. She wondered if Smith would see it that way.

"The minute, the second I see that bastard again," Niamh hissed. "I'm going to stick a lance through his skull."

Idas snorted. "Get in line."

Amber couldn't fault them for their anger and a small part of her wanted some payback too. She could see from their faces that both Darien and Uther echoed those sentiments. On her right, however, Hekket, the only one of them to come through the ordeal unscathed, looked conflicted. He sat with one elbow resting on the chair arm, his hand balled into a fist and pressed against his mouth.

"You okay?" she said quietly, leaning closer to him.

Hekket nodded. "I'm fine. I just...we're not killers. That's not what I signed up for."

"Next time it might be him or us," Darien told them. "If it comes down to it, we will kill him if we have to."

"I know, I know." The medic shook his head, his voice hardening. "And I'm not scared of it. I just don't have to like it." He looked up, meeting Amber's gaze, and she could see resolve in his eyes. After a moment he inclined his head to her wound. "How's that rib of yours?"

She smiled weakly. "I'll live."

At that moment the door to the briefing room slid open and Smith walked in. The operatives all straightened up in their seats and Amber felt a chill of nervousness go up her spine as the man passed her. He strode to the front of the room and turned, folding his arms and leaning against the table.

Smith looked at them for a long, long uncomfortable moment. Amber squirmed inwardly under his glacial stare. When he spoke, however, his voice was calm; measured.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"As good as we can be, considering," Darien replied.

"Indeed."