Raymond held the rock in both hands and inspected it closely. It was weighty for a small rock and had earthy red and orange stripes running through it. He turned it over a few times and rubbed some of his sweat into it. The moisture made the dry rock look darker and more impressive. He spat on it and rubbed it again. It was a good example of a sedimentary rock, basically compressed ancient river sludge. The striped layers represented millions of years of pressure, compacted earth crushing the mineral and organic detritus with glacial slowness. In fact, glaciers moved distinctly faster than the forces of nature that created this rock.

So much history. Millions of years. The tiny amount of time humans had spent on the planet would hardly feature on this small rock. A line so fine across the rock's surface it would be too small to see. Raymond had always loved rocks, as a boy his pockets were always filled with them. The Netherlands was flat, featureless and covered in concrete. At the beach Raymond would head straight to the banks of smooth ocean worn pebbles, looking for fossils and interesting remnants, enduring little vessels from another time.

“We do have slightly more sophisticated weapons than rocks you know,” Lance said from the VLR.

“Looking for a rock to throw at your head,” replied Raymond with a growl. “I don't think this one's big enough.”

Raymond looked out at the burnt red landscape and thought how tired it was. Scoured by millions of years of heat and dry wind the land looked old, worn down and defeated. There were no rocky outcrops, no sharp edges, and no shade anywhere. It had all been eroded by the relentless sun and wind. Raymond raised his thick sunglasses to get a true sense of the colours, but the intense glare made him lower them immediately. Just as he was thinking it must be impossible for anything to survive out here, he caught sight of a lizard on a rock, swaying lightly on its front legs as it surveyed them. It was small and covered in evil-looking spikes. The name thorny devil appeared in Raymond's head from some long-ago biology lesson. Then as if aware of the attention, the lizard swiftly scuttled away. Dancing across the hot surface, feet barely touching the sand and its spiky tail drawing a transient winding path behind it.

Raymond turned and walked back to the VLR. The heat was slightly less intense in the shade. There were four Osprey Vertical Lift Rotors sitting where they had landed twenty minutes ago in the baking hot outback of North West Australia. So far from anywhere, it was pointless looking for any signs of civilization. Raymond could hear a low hydraulic whine from the engines as if the machines were anxious to get moving again. The dust had just settled from their landing and now nothing moved. Not a breath of wind in the hot stagnant air. The black VLRs sat dormant, covered in red dust. Each capable of carrying ten passengers. They were ungainly, graceless looking things, a cross between a helicopter and a small plane with four rotor blades built into the body. Lithium-ion batteries powered the rotors and would sustain flight for long periods at high speed.

The new generation VLRs could circumnavigate the globe on one charge. They were fast, highly maneuverable and these BPI versions were bristling with weaponry. Auto-cannons, machine guns, and missiles of various shapes and sizes were attached to every available surface. Most of the Masama soldiers sat inside the VLRs inspecting their weapons. Raymond noticed a few roaming around their transports, checking the ordinance was all in working order. As usual, there was little conversation among them, just the odd grunt or curse.

Raymond had been summoned only hours ago and they had mobilized quickly. He counted thirty-five soldiers with Lance, Odetta, Batac and himself. They had flown the VLRs to a deserted spot in North Western Australia in anticipation of the shuttle’s arrival. As well as the heavily armed VLRs, each soldier was issued with canisters of compressed liquid helium attached to their multi-guns and high-pressure flamethrowers which were more efficient than lasers in an oxygen-rich environment. They had all been briefed on what had happened on the moon base and Raymond had been amazed to watch the recorded images. The liquid helium had been effective there, but the black worms had obviously evolved into something else to escape the Moon and commandeer the shuttle. Goran, Odetta, and Lance all had first-hand experience with the plastisol worms and the Masama were prepared for anything.

Raymond was relieved to be involved with this urgent mission. It delayed the procedure for fitting an implant in his head, which had been originally planned for that day. He still had not decided what to do about this impending gift of telepathy. If he refused the implant he would never advance up the BPI hierarchy and he would arouse suspicions. If he accepted the implant and gave the Masama access to his mind, he would be in danger of having his cover blown. He would have to trust his training and strength of will to keep his identity buried. It would take concentration and vigilance, but he could see no other choice. It was a huge risk.

Raymond had been operating undercover as Rutger for almost two years now and had plenty of time to think about the ultimate outcome. Failure would most likely mean death. Escape would be impossible. The most he could hope for would be to inflict as much damage with any available weaponry before his death. If it came to this, he hoped he would be close enough to Lago Santos to take him out. Thankfully all of this had been postponed while they dealt with the shuttle.

He found the pre-op briefing about the events on the Moon hard to believe, he had watched one of the technicians become infected and turn into a twisted monster, overtaken by the horrible alien blackness, attacking Goran before the Masama eventually reduced it to dust. The rest of the soldiers did not seem surprised at all, they never betrayed any emotion, and this was no exception. Raymond weighed the rock in his palm again and resisted the urge to put it in his pocket. Instead, he turned and hurled it out into the desert. It landed with a puff of dust and settled in to rest for another few million years.

“Get back in Rutger; we would hate to leave without you,” Lance said over the hydraulic hum of the rotors.

“At least these things have air conditioning.” Raymond climbed into the VLR and roughly planted his frame next to Odetta who threw him a derisory look.

They sat opposite Lance who had the tracking equipment on his lap and Goran who sat rigid in his seat with a permanent sneer on his face. His optic field was the only thing moving on his body. He didn't even swat away the flies landing on his scarred head. If Goran's new look amused the Masama they did not show it. Raymond knew better than to display any reaction at all. The medics who installed his optics must have had a vindictive streak. Raymond wondered whether the Masama telepathic communication extended to humour and sarcasm or whether they had forgotten the art of amusing invective. Or maybe that was why Goran looked so dark.

“Got it,” muttered Lance. “It's coming in fast, fourteen hundred K. Get ready.”

Without any further words being spoken the doors on all the VLRs were closed and the whine of the rotors increased.

“On course, three hundred kilometres away and slowing, twelve hundred K, it must be using its forward thrusters.”

“What’s the projection?” asked Goran.

“About twenty kilometres to the South, better get airborne.” The VLRs all ascended smoothly straight up in clouds of red dust. They banked and turned away to the South, picking up speed.

“Still on course, still slowing, down to a thousand K.”

“Any habitats in the region?” queried Raymond.

“No, nearest settlement is a cluster of holes on the shores of Lake Disappointment, eighty kilometres to the east.”

“Holes?”

“Too hot to live above ground, the poor bastards live in holes where it's cooler. Why they don't all just move to the beach I'll never know,” yelled Lance above the drone of the rotors.

The shuttle had to land somewhere but why it had chosen one of the most remote parts of the planet was unfathomable. Raymond guessed its occupant wasn't quite ready for human contact just yet. The Tobias shuttles were designed to land on any platform flat enough if they had enough fuel to decelerate. The Tobias III needed to burn a significant amount of fuel to arrest the huge speeds coming in through the upper atmosphere. It must have been almost out of fuel, but it was still braking hard. The VLRs reached the projected interception point and hovered in formation, waiting for the shuttle. Raymond could see it now, coming in on a steep angle from the North West. A bright streak like a comet or meteor, the structure of the Tobias III was invisible behind the wall of air in front of it as it blazed its way through the atmosphere.

“It's maintaining a thousand K at an eight K altitude; it’s going to have to start braking hard if it wants to land.” Lance watched the tracking equipment intently.

“Monitor the lifeboats on the shuttle,” ordered Goran.

“Of course.”

“How many lifeboats does it carry?” asked Raymond.

“Two,” replied Lance. “Although they will have to eject about now if they want to slow down in time to land safely. Four kilometres away now, still maintaining a thousand K, not slowing down, heading South East, too fast for any landing attempt.”

“Let’s move,” snapped Goran. “South East.” He yelled at the soldier piloting the VLR.

The Four VLRs spread out and all began accelerating in that direction, staying close to the ground.

“Here it comes!”

There was a deafening sonic boom as the shuttle passed overhead. The noise was like a cannon going off in a confined space. The vibrations shook Raymond’s bones and the dust storm that whipped up around the VLRs added to the disorientation. His teeth were rattling, and it felt as if his brain was bouncing around inside his skull.

“Altitude, now!” yelled Goran. The VLRs were already rising and accelerating.

The sonic boom faded like receding thunder and they lifted above the thick red dust cloud.

“Must have had more fuel in reserve than we thought!” shouted Lance over the screaming rotors. “Booted it once it was two hundred meters above us. Smashed the sound barrier, I wonder if it had planned to do that all along or it had just noticed the welcoming committee?”

“Where's it headed?” Goran demanded.

“Still heading almost due South East, at about fourteen hundred K.”

“Stay on it, maximum speed.”

“How fast do these things go?” asked Raymond as he regained control of his faculties.

“Six hundred K, eight hundred max in a shallow dive,” muttered Lance, tapping instructions into the tracking equipment. “Not fast enough.”

“It’s almost out of fuel, it won't get far.” Goran sounded confident.

“Crossing the South Australian coast, still maintaining a South East bearing, heading out towards the Southern Tasman. Wait, it dropped a lifeboat, just off the coast. Parachutes out but it’s still going to hit the water hard. Too hard for anyone inside to survive.”

Raymond watched the landscape below them changing rapidly as they tore across South Australia at low altitude. The dry red and browns of the desert gave way to sparse pockets of greenery. Undulating hills and small townships flashed past underneath. Raymond wondered what havoc they must be causing with the local airways and navigation authorities. He hoped the VLRs had some form of collision avoidance. It would be unfortunate to smash into a drone at this speed, disastrous to hit a bigger aircraft. Even hitting a seagull could be fatal. Raymond was conscious of asking too many questions and kept quiet. He did not want to appear ignorant. He watched the big blue expanse of the Great Australian Bight looming out the window to his right. They were slowly gaining altitude, rotor blades screaming at maximum velocity.

“Lifeboat has splashed down in the middle of Gulf Saint Vincent!” yelled Lance. “Good aim at that speed.”

Fucker,” Goran cursed. He made a slight sideways movement with his head and one of the VLRs peeled off the formation to follow the lifeboat down into the Gulf.

Raymond could understand Goran's frustration. Gulf Saint Vincent was the city of Adelaide's aquatic playground. There were boats of all shapes and sizes plying their trade from factory ships to jet skis and they all would have noticed the spherical lifeboat fall from the shuttle tearing across their blue skies. Curious crowds would be watching as the parachutes deployed and the lifeboat crashed into the middle of the harbour. It would make a huge splash and be immediately surrounded by fishermen, treasure hunters, and local authorities. The Masama had their instructions though; they would be on the lifeboat within minutes.

“Probably a decoy!” shouted Lance.

“Soon find out,” muttered Goran.

They continued their pursuit, tracking the progress of the Tobias III as it sped away across the South Tasman Sea. Minutes later a soldier's voice crackled over the comms, the distance too great for telepathic communication.

“Lifeboat intercepted, it's empty,” said the soldier.

“Leave it there, catch up with us,” responded Goran. “How far away is the shuttle?”

“About two thousand K south of Tasmania, still heading southeast and showing no signs of slowing. Must be on its last few drops of fuel.”

The Masama were quiet and expressionless as they watched Australia receding in a brown haze behind them. As Raymond looked to the South all he could see were layers of low cloud stretching to the horizon. The VLR was vibrating madly at its maximum speed, pushed to the limit of its operational threshold; it felt as if it would disintegrate at any moment. He could see the other two VLRs below and slightly behind, vapour trails dissipating behind them.

“It's slowing down, losing altitude. Must have used all its fuel.”

“Projected landing?” demanded Goran.

“If it maintains the glide it’s in it’ll make landfall somewhere over the Rockefeller plateau, Antarctica. There are areas flat enough to land although it would need to have saved some fuel to decelerate. Unlikely it has enough.”

They maintained their pursuit in silence. The temperature dropped rapidly as they hurtled their way south above the thick cloud layer. The huge grey blanket beneath looked dense enough to land on. Raymond was freezing now. He had been prepared for the sun-baked furnace of outback Australia, not the icy climate of Antarctica. No one else seemed to be bothered by the cold, he grimaced and tried to appear immune to the elements.

“The other lifeboat just jettisoned, too far away to get an accurate fix, just give it a few more seconds.”

The roving lights of Goran’s optical field cast blue shadows on the faces of Odetta and Batac. They all listened as the VLRs flew through a huge cumulus.

“Yes, it's dropped the second lifeboat; its trajectory will see it splash down somewhere North of Scott Island, in the Ross Sea.”

“And the shuttle?” asked Goran.

“Still losing altitude. Current trajectory puts it down beyond the Antarctic plateau, on the slopes of Vinson Massif. It’s not decelerating fast enough to make a safe landing yet.”

Goran didn't say anything but with a slight head movement, the VLR began to accelerate even harder as it tilted its nose slightly, adjusted its wings and aimed for the clouds in a shallow dive. Raymond noticed another VLR alongside while the third was left behind maintaining its altitude and speed to follow the shuttle. Goran had obviously decided this lifeboat was no decoy.

Both descending VLRs were almost in excess of eight hundred K, rotors screaming, fuselage rattling and vibrating like a jackhammer. They plunged through the cloud layer and into heavy rain. The temperature dropped even further, and the visibility was almost zero. Thirty seconds later they broke through the cloud layer into a slate grey world of ice and water. Raymond could just make out the ocean below, melding with the sky in a portentous stormy nightmare. The dark ocean surged with shards of white - either icebergs or white water. Then both VLRs levelled out at two hundred meters and settled back to the more sedate pace of five hundred K.

“Scott Island up ahead, the lifeboat is in the water about a kilometer North, slow down a bit,” yelled Lance as the VLR decelerated further and the view became clearer.

Raymond's teeth were chattering violently and his hands shaking as he looked out the window. The wind whipped ocean was a mass of contradicting waves and fluid chaos. Thousands of icebergs floated below, some small chunks and some the size of buildings. It was a stormy day in the Ross Sea. Rolling swells undulated across the surface, crashing into each other and into the bigger icebergs, sending explosions of spray into the air to be whipped away horizontally by the howling wind. Raymond could see Scott Island, a craggy outcrop appearing above the swells. Sheer walls of rock thrust defiantly out of the churning seas as huge waves crashed against the jagged vertical faces.

The VLRs decelerated even further to what seemed like walking pace after the ferocious intensity of their pursuit. They swooped across Scott Island and banked north to search for the lifeboat. After only a few seconds they spotted something in the water ahead.

“Looks like we are not the only ones with an interest in this lifeboat,” said Lance.

As the view became clearer there appeared to be two stationary ships riding the swells. The VLRs zoomed in on the identical sister ships. Old fishing trawlers, both painted black and flying skull and cross-bone flags. In between the two ships was the lifeboat, floating on the surface, buffeted by the wind and rain, its parachute streaming out behind it. Raymond could make out two small dory boats which were battering their way through the ocean swells towards the lifeboat. The VLRs circled overhead, the downward draft from the rotors adding to the stormy mayhem below.

“Get a make on those ships,” ordered Goran. Instantly the cabin was alive with activity as the Masama, under telepathic instruction from Goran, fixed metal D-clips and cables to the exterior frame ready to abseil down.

“Christobal II and Christobal IV,” said Lance peering at his datapad. “Sister ships registered to a defunct fishing company in Canada. Both vessels have been in the Southern Ocean fighting illegal toothfishing. Environmentalists. Well-shielded links to eco-terrorist organization Black Robin.”

Raymond felt startled for a micro-second; he had not heard those two words for a long time. He covered up his surprise with a snarling curse.

They hovered about twenty-five meters above the lifeboat and watched the action below, waiting for Goran's signal. Each dory boat had four crew, both were approaching the lifeboat from different sides, grappling hooks at the ready. The crew were oblivious to the VLRs above as the howling wind and churning seas drowned out the noise.

A hatch popped open on top of the lifeboat. Through the sea spray, they could make out a human head with black hair. The head surveyed the scene, scanned the approaching dory boats and looked up to take in the hovering VLRs. He appeared completely calm and indifferent to the commotion around him. The figure disappeared back into the lifeboat just as the first dory boat got close enough to throw its grappling hook which caught on the open hatch.

A few hundred kilometres away to the South East, the shuttle Tobias III was tearing over the icy wastes of the Rockefeller Plateau. It had lost a lot of altitude but not a lot of speed, screaming over the deserted frozen landscape still clocking over a thousand K. A few permanent settlements were scattered strategically around the melting polar continent, mostly scientists and geologists. There had once been a small settlement not far from Vinson Massif, but it was now long abandoned. There was no one to witness the incoming shuttle.

Inside the bridge of Tobias III, the frozen bodies of Stella and Ranjit had started to thaw but they were rigid in their seats, muscles locked with rigour mortis. Their open eyes were clouded as the bridge rattled and shook around them, the melting frost turned into tears running down their cheeks, unconsciously mourning their impending destruction. The shuttle broke through the cloud cover and hurtled towards the slopes of Vinson Massif. It slammed into the snowy slopes on an angle with a massive explosion. There was a belated muffled rupture of snow, rock and steaming exhaust as the Tobias III buried itself in the side of the Massif.

There were no flames as the shuttle had no fuel left to burn but plumes of steam as the hot shuttle melted the snow. The sound reverberated around the snowy wasteland, echoes bouncing off the peaceful slopes. There was no sign of the Tobias III apart from a dirty black scar on the side of the Massif and a few bits of shrapnel scattered around the crash site. Then a deep rumbling started as thousands of tonnes of snow and ice broke free of the rocky pinnacles above. A monstrous avalanche crashed down the slopes of the Massif like a glacial tidal wave. When it was over there was no sign of the impact, the once pristine snowy slopes now ploughed and untidy, concealed the entire event. Ranjit and Stella's mangled bodies were buried forever deep in a frosty Antarctic tomb.