The instant of darkness gave way to the familiar sun-blue glare of the Blink headquarters excursion chamber, and the primary Nav-Rod that served as a galactic anchor for every single operative. Much larger than the ones attached to the Blink shuttles, this rod stood a monstrous six metres in height and eight inches thick, embossed with evenly spaced bands of glowing blue. Amber rubbed her eyes with one hand as she adjusted to the change in light.

Looking around instinctively she was able to quash the little feeling of apprehension that accompanied every single Blink. The rest of Hammerhead Squad had safely arrived with her. The five other operatives looked considerably more at ease than she felt. Eventually she'd managed to get her body under control after the near miss at the hands of their lone gunman, but her mind didn't let it go so easily.

She found herself hanging back almost without meaning to, embarrassment, anger and fear all churning together in horrible vortex. The others fanned out, congratulating each other on a job well done, as though they'd forgotten the incident already.

"Okay people," Darien said. "Good work. Dump your gear; let's debrief and then take the rest of the day off."

"Music to my ears," Idas chuckled, clapping Uther on the back with a grin. They filed through the door of the excursion chamber without a care in the world. The rational part of Amber's mind could keep pace with them. On paper the operation had been a resounding success: no fatalities among the hostages or operatives, and they'd taken in the criminal alive along with it. Exemplary, by the standards Blink set for itself.

But not to her. The memory of the gunshot; the instant where she'd been sure her life had been cut short, replayed over and over in her mind. She could still feel the faint throbbing pain in her lower abdomen where the bullet had driven the body armour back against her skin. Amber closed her eyes; shook her head to fling the memory away for a few more seconds.

Eventually, and to her immense surprise, it was the squad's blunt-spoken second-in-command who noticed her lagging behind, and the girl dropped back, her biological eye narrowing. A moment later they were side by side.

"Okay, let's hear it. How're you holding up, Newbie?" asked Niamh, slinging an arm around Amber's shoulders.

Amber shrugged. "I...I don't really know."

"Just say what you're thinking."

She glanced at Niamh, looking into the strange combination of the emotionless emerald iris and her shining, green eye.

"It's just...hell, I'm sixteen years old and that guy nearly killed me. He nearly ended everything for me on some lifeless hunk of rock in the middle of nowhere. If he had...it's just not fair."

"So what exactly are you saying?" the other girl asked, steering her toward the door.

"I don't think I realised what I was getting into when I agreed to come here." Amber hung her head, shame washing over her, and something else totally unfamiliar.

Failure.

But then she felt a hand tap her under the chin.

"Hey, keep your head up," Niamh said firmly, all humour now gone from her voice. "I get it – you're feeling pretty shook up. I know that was a rough ride for your second time out, but you've got to put it behind you. Sometimes this job's dangerous, but you handle it, day by day, alright? Don't let one angry bully with a gun ruin your day."

"Yeah." Amber couldn't manage anything more convincing than that. She shrugged Niamh's arm from her shoulders and followed the squad out of the excursion room towards the barrack room where they kept their personal equipment stores.

She quickly crossed the chamber, eager to shed her gear as fast as possible, and thumbed the DNA identifier on the locker with a name plate that read ''. The fat metal plate slid aside, revealing a small alcove filled with sets of equipment to fit any operation. There were oxygen breathers, gas masks, dark-sight goggles, a thick-lined polar body suit and much more. She had a gun cradle and a series of hooks to hold the light sheaths of standard-issue body armour that the operatives wore.

Placing the carbine into its cradle she began the process of stripping off the plates of lightweight armour from her body, arms and legs with frantic energy. The material allowed enough bend for the operatives to move unhindered, but she had just been shown firsthand the kind of punishment the seemingly flimsy armour offered.

With lightning quickness she hooked the various plates into position. Then she tugged out the rubbery, triangular communication stud and massaged her ear where the thing had been lodged. No one else seemed to have any trouble with them, but she found the claw-like earpieces to be very uncomfortable. Tossing it gratefully into the locker, she slipped on the soft Hammerhead hooded jacket and sent the door sliding shut.

No longer carrying the gun and with the protective gear removed, she felt herself relax just a little. She felt a lot more normal without the tactical gear. Taking a deep breath, Amber leant forward, resting her forehead against the cool metal of the locker for just a moment.

"Amber?"

She jerked upright sharply and turned to find Darien, lounging against the lockers alongside her. She hadn't even heard him approach.

"We've got to debrief now," he said quietly. "But I understand if you'd rather take a little time."

"No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I'm part of the team."

"You sure?"

"Yeah...yeah I'm sure."

"Okay then." He half-turned to leave, but some after-thought stopped him. He looked back and smiled. "Amber, you did good."

"Thanks," she replied, feeling anything but.

The debrief process was an aspect of bureaucracy that the Blink administrators understood their youthful operatives would hate. Accordingly, the interviews were brief, streamlined affairs with one individual following a loose script of queries to ensure that the operatives had acquitted themselves in line with the rules of engagement. These rules could change from planet to planet – every colony had its own slightly different way of governing affairs. This disparity meant that the Blink operatives had a myriad of jurisdictional potholes to navigate in the performance of their duties.

Thankfully this bloodless outing would look good on their squad résumé. If operations descended into shootouts it was severely frowned upon. The operatives were armed to protect themselves, not to gun down criminals at the drop of a hat.

Amber seated herself at the far left of the table in the grey-walled debriefing room alongside Idas. Darien sat in the centre and would be doing most of the talking. Niamh was beside him and on the far end of the table the other two members of the squad sat: Hekket – the group's slight-framed medical specialist – and Uther, the nominal squad engineer and the oldest operative among them. The administrator switched on his recording apparatus and began scribbling notes with a stylus as Darien launched into his after-action report. She marvelled at how his mind snagged every little detail, from the moment they'd blinked out to the asteroid to the instant they returned to Blink Station Alpha. Occasionally Niamh would interject small contributions while the others looked on, their boredom hanging in the air like a smog cloud. Gratefully, they didn't ask her to recount the incident – Darien gave them the footnotes and provided the recording from the camera stud.

Satisfied that all administrative conditions had been filled, the man conducting the after-action report dismissed them. The six operatives dutifully trudged from the room out into the stark whiteness of Blink Station Alpha. Amber came out of the room feeling slightly numb. Seeing it all laid out in such a clinical way seemed slightly surreal after actually experiencing it.

"Okay troops," Darien declared breezily. "A flawless score across the board, and for that, I think it's time we all cashed in on some well-earned R & R! Leisure Suite 6 is freed up for us to use for the next couple of days."

"Two whole days?" Idas asked incredulously.

"Let this be a lesson to you," Darien laughed. "Play by the rules and nice things happen." He twirled on his heel and pointed down the corridor. "Follow me. Let's go and relax."

Amber had to admit, after months of gruelling training and the shaking experience of their last mission, a couple of days off the grid sounded fantastic. After that though...

As the rest of them set off she pulled Darien back by the elbow until they walked level with each other, a few meters back from their chattering comrades.

"Can we talk for a minute," she asked softly.

"Of course," he replied. "What's on your mind?"

"I...you know I appreciate you believing in me like you do, but, I don't know, Darien. When that guy pointed a gun at me, I was terrified."

"Good."

She blinked in surprise. "What?"

A wry smile crossed Darien's face. "Amber, we don't recruit robots. We recruit people, human beings from all walks of life. I don't want someone on my team with no sense of self-preservation."

"But I froze."

"You were startled," he corrected.

"The guy had a gun on me and I didn't – I couldn't – do anything. That's not what Blink operatives do." She shook her head dejectedly. "I want to be a good operative but ... but I don't know if I'm cut out for this."

"This has nothing to do with you being a good operative, Amber," Darien answered. "And I know exactly what it is."

"What's that?"

"You're not the first person we've pulled from a place like Illuvari, colonies with all the money, the comforts, no crime, perfect education, a clean atmosphere – and the people that we find there are like you. I don't mean this is as an insult, but you've never really had a challenge in your life, have you?"

Amber frowned. Thinking back through her childhood, she couldn't deny that he had a point. Her life had been plain sailing for as long as she could remember. "You could say that."

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. It's just a combination of where you've grown up, and what you're capable of. There's no hardship; nothing to fight for, so you get comfortable. All that happened today was that you found your first real hurdle in life. And you know what? You got over it pretty well."

"You think so?"

"Of course I do. So you were scared. You think anyone on this squad isn't afraid when their life is in danger?"

She shook her head. "I guess I hadn't thought of it that way."

"Just stop being so hard on yourself," he told her. "You're in a new environment now. No-one is expecting you to be the best of the best right out of the gate."

Amber stared at him for a moment, not sure how to react. Could he be right? Was she holding herself to a golden standard that, being surrounded be equally exceptional individuals, she couldn't hope to maintain?

"You really think so?" she asked in a small voice

"I know so." He grinned. "It's not my first time breaking in a new recruit, you know. I'll tell you what, we've got these two days. Take your time; think it over. If you still feel the same way, just come and talk to me. Okay?"

"Okay." This time when she smiled she actually meant it, the pressure lifting from her shoulders. "I appreciate it."

Further conversation was interrupted as they made to cut through the barrack room. When they entered it, Amber was confused at the sight within. The found a flurry of activity taking place in the room they'd vacated barely half an hour ago. It looked like the members of Raptor Squad were gearing up to enter a war zone. Grim-faced and silent they were strapping on armour and loading weapons with ferocious speed and none of them even glanced up when Amber and the others entered.

"Somebody running late?" Idas enquired.

Seb shot him a withering look. "Nothing you need to worry your pretty head over."

Idas opened his mouth to reply but Darien nudged him and shook his head. When he spoke his voice was altogether more concerned.

"What's your op, Seb? Looks like you guys are heading into a fire-fight."

"Summit Grade distress signal," the other teen answered, checking the sight on his carbine.

Darien's voice came out as a sharp gasp. "Summit Grade?!"

"Yes!" Seb looked at him irately. "So if you don't mind, I've got more pressing things to do than explain pointless details about an operation that you've got no part in."

"Touchy-,"

"Idas," Darien snapped suddenly. "Now's not the time." Idas looked at him, but where Amber expected to see anger she found that the burly teenager looked embarrassed – ashamed even. When she looked back to Seb she saw him give a stiff nod of thanks.

"Leave them to it guys," Darien continued. "No use us getting in the way. C'mon."

He led them quickly past the other operatives without another word. Once they were through the barrack room Darien stopped and turned to face them. The glee and elation of their successful operations had vanished now, replaced by a look of sadness. He motioned down the corridor.

"Niamh, take everybody to the Suite. I'll catch up." He sounded drained and Amber could only look on bafflement. The others, however, didn't question him as he turned his back and set off in the opposite direction. There was some awkward shuffling until Niamh spoke up.

"Alright, c'mon," she said, trying to inject some brightness back into the situation. "You heard him. We've got a hard day of relaxing ahead of us!" To Amber's confusion they all turned and started walking as though nothing had happened. Her mind writhed and suddenly she no longer felt like part of the team. Something about the encounter had flipped a switch in Darien's head and transformed their gung-ho energetic squad leader into a morose shell.

She caught Hekket by the arm and pulled him back. "Hang on, what the hell was all that about?"

The sandy-haired youth glanced to Niamh for approval. She gave him an almost imperceptible nod of assent. The others continued walking and Hekket buried his hands into his pockets, not looking her in the eye.

"Yeah...I guess we owe you an explanation."

"Uh-huh."

"There aren't a lot of Summit Grade calls," he explained. "That's a disaster code. It means that whatever situation Seb and his guys are walking into is guaranteed to be extremely dangerous. Depending on the situation we sometimes route those incidents to Colonial Navy units. They take a lot longer to respond but they're soldiers."

"And we're not?"

"It's not the same." Hekket shifted from foot to foot now, clearly regretting that he'd been the one forced to provide an explanation.

"Well, what's that got to do with Darien pulling a Jekyll 'n' Hyde back there?"

"We've only ever been on one Summit Grade assignment," he said.

"And?"

He shrugged unhappily. "Not everyone came back."