None of the four scattered on the floor showed any signs of life. Simple as that: extinguished in just over ten seconds of gunfire. Var called up a menu on her visor screen, and keyed into a com icon that was presently dormant. It started flashing, down in the bottom right corner of her visor as the rest of the menu faded. Then it blinked out, and her helmet speakers beeped to let her know the new channel had been opened from the other end.

‘You’re alone now, Ricard,’ she said.

After a moment, he asked, ‘What do you mean, alone?’

‘I mean Silberman and the last of your enforcers are dead.’

‘Then you’ve won.’

Var turned and began heading back the way she had come, leaving Lopomac standing behind her, seemingly horrified by what they had just done. He wouldn’t be strong enough, she realized, he wouldn’t be able to carry this through to its inevitable and necessary conclusion.

‘Surrender yourself now, Ricard, and you get to live until the base personnel decide what to do with you,’ she said. ‘If you don’t surrender, then that’s fine. You can stay out there until your air runs out.’

Into an outer section now, blast damage evident all up the walls beside her, the broken window ahead where the enforcers had entered.

‘Someone was shooting at me from the roof,’ he protested.

‘Carol?’

‘I hear you.’

‘You can come down now.’

‘Okay, on my way,’ the woman replied, relief obvious in her voice.

‘I need some sort of guarantee,’ insisted Ricard, but his decision was already made. She could hear it in his voice – he was all out of choices.

‘I give you my word that no one here will try to kill you, Ricard. I need you alive, and telling the people here what instructions you received from Earth. I need them to know.’

She could now see him through the window, as he stood up, holding his rifle above his head.

‘Put the weapon on the ground,’ she said.

By the tilt of his head, he was still gazing up at the roof, expecting shots from there. With care he lowered his rifle and did as instructed, then began walking in towards the hex. Var moved towards the window, detaching the mostly used-up clip from her rifle and slotting a new one into place. She vaulted the sill, boots thumping on to the dusty ground. His head jerked back down, seeing her now. She walked out towards him, closing the gap until they stood just five metres apart.

‘The base personnel will understand,’ he ventured anxiously.

‘Yes,’ she replied, ‘they certainly will.’

She pulled the trigger and watched him dance for a moment, then tumble backwards through a cloud of dust. The base personnel would certainly understand that this man wasn’t worth the precious air it took to keep him breathing.

Argus Station