[Sorry for the long wait everyone – hope you enjoy

Climbing up the ropes in near complete darkness was harder that Captain Mitchell had anticipated. As fatigue settled in, he realised why mountain climbers had light muscular frames. The worst was his hands. They were aching, and didn't respond as readily as they had when the climb started.

Seven-One had ascended two levels by now, and looking at his military issue watch, Mitchell realised that it had taken them over an hour. He could not help but be concerned with the rest of the men. Had the Demons blown themselves up in the lift shaft? He doubted it. Does that mean that Seven-Two was in contact? Hell, he hoped not. Judging by the way the Demons chewed through Seven-Three, a straight head on confrontation could go bad for the Diamonds.

Reaching up, he grabbed the floor of sub-level five. Pulling himself up, he peeked over the edge. There was no visible danger. The eight by four meter room was dimly lit and had a number of waist-high equipment containers randomly scattered around the floor. The far end the passage turned away in the darkness.

Rolling over the edge Mitchell wished he had a motion scanner with him. Without it he just had to wait for danger to present itself before calling his men up. Fortunately there seemed to be nothing.

Corporal Collins was behind him. It was the Firebat carrying Mitchell's light machine gun. The young soldier was fit, reliable and focused, and Mitchell was glad to have him on board. His blonde hair and green eyes also made him quite a hit with the ladies – or so the rumour was.

"Watch the approach corporal" Mitchell instructed the young soldier, while he leaned over the edge to signal the next man up.

Collins's machine gun popped three times making Mitchell swing around, his pistol ready. The three rounds had exploded the head of an Invested Terran.

"Shit" Mitchell swore. "These bastards are becoming a real pain in the ass." Another one appeared in the dark tunnel that stretched out in front of the two men.

Whum! Smoke drifted up from Mitchell's Gauss pistol and two corpses lay motionless. When you thought it couldn't get any worse, Mitchell thought to himself…

00000000

Lieutenant Spengler had his head lowered, and was heading into the howling wind. He was getting sandblasted by the high winds and had to keep checking his navigation computer to make sure he was not getting off course.

Suddenly he crouched down. He wasn't sure why, but something was bothering him.

Spengler had honed his psychic abilities in training. It took some getting used to, but remaining sensitive to it, enabled him to receive top honours in the Ghost-academy. Right now he was almost certain there was no immediate threat, yet he could not shake the feeling of looming danger.

ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

"Sir" the soldier yelled over the raging wind, "the Bio-Pulse indicates that we're being followed; target six o'clock – four hundred meters."

Commandant Vritra turned to look over his shoulder, knowing he would see nothing but waves of sand blowing in the wind.

"One man?" he asked.

"It looks like it sir" the soldier responded.

Vritra knew if it was one person, it was the Ghost operator of the Diamonds. He considered how wonderful it would be to eliminate their primary reconnaissance element. It would be like taking the queen of his opponent in this chess game.

Vritra also found a perverse pleasure in killing Ghost operators, and had seven confirmed kills chalked to his name. Knowing he was taking out the best that the Terran military had to offer, gave him a sense of exhilaration. He could still remember the reverence that filled the voices of his comrades when they spoke of the Ghosts operators, and how it pissed him off.

At the same time he did not want to loose sight of his main objective. Having reached the ventilation structure, which resembled a cube-shaped mushroom about two meters in height, he wanted to get down to the sphere as soon as possible.

"Take Sobriesky and Niurtu and circle around him. I want you to take the Bio-Pulse along and confirm his location every ten minutes – Ghosts can be real slick and if you're not careful you'll loose him", Vritra said. "We'll open up the vent and wait for you to get back", he concluded.

"And bring me his dog-tags" Vritra added as the soldier started to leave. "I collect them you see", he murmured - his glassy eyes sending a chill down his subordinate's back.

000000000000000000000000000000000000000000

Commander Aeron was pissed off. He was eager to prove himself to Vritra. Having served under him for eight months, he had never had the opportunity to show him just how good he really was.

Sitting with his back against the wall, he was breathing heavily recovering from the onslaught that he had just survived. Droplets of sweat were pearling on his forehead. He cursed out load, spitting out the phlegm that had formed in his burning throat.

The Diamonds came out of nowhere and hit them hard. At the moment he only had two of his men with him, a third somewhere on sub-level six. The other two were presumably dead – consumed in the fireball that shot through the lift-shaft.

The sound of gunfire made him swing his head around. It was echoing though the corridor leading away from the lift shaft.

Who was firing and what were they firing at, he wondered. He knew it wasn't his commandant, so it had to be a detachment of the Diamonds. Was it the group carrying the sphere heading up the vent? Was fortune finally smiling on him? How great would it be if he could capture the sphere before commandant Vritra came down he vent.

"On me" he shouted to his men as he got up and started running down the hallway. The two soldiers complied at once, having seen the fire in Aeron's eyes.

0000000

Mitchell aimed and fired, aimed and fired. Between himself and corporal Collins, they had already dropped four IT's. The rest of the group were making their way up the vent behind them.

0000000

Spengler could not shake the uneasy feeling that had possessed him twenty minutes ago. Hopefully he would get 'eyes-on' in the next few second. He flicked the covers of his scope up, switched to infrared to pierce the thick sand clouds and scanned for the Demons.

At the bottom of the scope display a small index showed the colour spectrum that the instrument provided. Black meant the object you were looking at was below freezing point. The colours got brighter as the temperature of the object got higher, with everything hotter than an open flame displaying as white.

At 37,5 degrees Celsius, the human body would typically leave a green impression on the tiny electronic screen and that is exactly how the three bodies he saw on the scope appeared. The figures were scattered around a two meter high cubical structure, apparently working to open it. It must be the vent, Spengler thought to himself.

Like a brick hitting him between the eyes, he realised something was wrong. The fact that he was sensing danger, combined with three of the Demons being unaccounted for meant trouble. Closing his scope, the familiar feeling of impending doom screaming out in his mental chambers almost overwhelmed him.

A fraction of a second later the bullet ripping through his bicep-femoris, the muscle commonly referred to as the hamstring, confirmed his senses weren't playing tricks on him.

His reaction was instantaneous, as it had to be. He knew a second shot would follow, and the possibility of it hitting its target more accurately was very real. Rolling away, he hoped he would lose his attackers in the dust clouds and darkness and weren't even sure how they were able to detect him, except for the silhouette the dust formed when hitting his body.

Rolling over a fourth and fifth time, he was slightly relieved to hear or feel no second shot. By now he had determined what direction the fire had come from and knew he would have to rely on his most basic skills to circle around and surprise his attackers. Apparently his stealth abilities had been compromised.

OOOOOOOOO

Neither the marine nor the firebat armour was any good for climbing steep inclines, much less vertical concrete faces. In fact, the marines stuck on sub-level two under the command of sergeant Ventura, could not go anywhere if they did not use the lift or remove their armour and climbed down the ropes.

Removing their armour was not an option for Ventura. Firstly it would be very difficult using the heavy Impalers, and secondly it would make them a sure-as-shit soft target. That meant that they had to use the lift if they wanted to get anywhere.

Ventura however knew that using the lift would be very dangerous. If they did it quickly, chances that the Demons had already set explosives was remote, but the possibility of them firing an explosive device at the moving lift carriage remained very real.

Staying put and waiting for better days was however not an option. If using the lift meant facing danger, but getting the job done, then it definitely fell in their job description.

"Ok, here's what we do" Ventura said to his men. "We get the personnel lift moving up from sub-level eight. Hopefully it will attract any fire if the Demons think Saunders is in it. Meanwhile we go down in the personnel lift. We have to protect Seven-One and that means taking on the Demons. There is now only four of them, and apparently they've been split up." The men nodded their agreement. Everyone seemed eager to get down there and mix it up – the loss of Seven-Three demanded it.

"We'll start on sub-level six, clear it and move up to five. Saunders says he's sure they're not on seven. Any questions? Ventura asked."

"Let's move", he concluded.

Ooooooooooooooooooo

Four I.T. corpses lay on the floor. Another came into view before Mitchell cut it down with his pistol. The next was riddled with small machine gun rounds.

The only good thing about these zombies, he thought to himself, was they didn't shoot back.

From behind the bend at the other end of the room, a black object came flying, clattering to the floor. In a split second Mitchell recognised it as a stun grenade. Falling backward over the container behind him, he was just quick enough to avoid the concussing effect of the grenade as it shook the front of the crate in a blinding explosion.

Collins was not as lucky. The effect of the grenade, primarily not to kill or destroy, knocked him against the wall, temporarily blinding and deafening him.

His ears ringing, Mitchell forced himself up, knowing the enemy would press the attack immediately after the explosion. His pistol barked angrily at the first soldier, clad in black, that came around the corner. Blue flashes marked his faultless aim, a number of ineffective rounds scattering over the attackers head and chest.

"Shit" Mitchell swore to himself as he ducked down, releasing the empty clip from his pistol. Before he could rise over the edge of the crate again, he could hear the machine gun fire – knowing it was aimed at Collins – probably killing him.

With one hand firing blindly over the crate, he managed to drive the attacker back behind the corner – the latter avoiding the gunfire that was draining his shield batteries.

"I've had enough of these assholes", Mitchell whispered to himself, the familiar warm sensation of absolute rage flaring up along his ears and cheeks. For the first time in his life as a professional soldier, he could feel himself loosing all rationale and reason – blinded by the anger of another one of his soldiers killed by these seemingly indestructible 'Demons'.

Without thinking, Mitchell moved. To him it felt as if everything was happening in slow motion – and he was very aware that he was probably living the last seconds of his life. Reaching down the vent shaft, he grabbed the Osiris Sphere from the unsuspecting soldier's hands.

"If you want it so bad then take it", he screamed flinging the sphere to bounce off the far wall and disappear around the bend.

Commander Aeron saw the orange ball rolling towards him, instantaneously recognising it from the briefing. Hunkering down to pick it up he smiled, not believing his amazing luck.

Looking up, his surprise was complete, seeing the enraged Mitchell coming around the corner like a bat out of hell, his gun flashing rapidly, his eyes flaming with hate. To Aeron it felt like a number of sledgehammers were pounding his body as the Gauss rounds hit their target, flinging him backwards. The sphere had rendered his shields useless.

Aeron's soldiers, standing on either side of him, were momentarily stunned by the attack. Lifting their weapons in retaliation, they were also too late. The first one met the same fate as Aeron as Mitchell emptied his clip into his chest.

The second one's finger was curling around his trigger before both of Mitchell's boots slammed into his face, Mitchell's body momentarily suspended horizontally in the air.

The force of the blow broke the Demon's jaw and nose, sending him tumbling back with a thin trail of blood whipping through the air. His scull hit the wall, cracking with a dull thud.

Rolling over, Mitchell already had Aeron's machine gun, and was searching for the next target. His eyes still burning with rage, it took him some seconds to realize that his three attackers were the only ones that had come.

Dropping the gun, he returned to Collins to see if anything could be done for him…but it was too late.

……………………………………….

Sweat pearled on Ventura's forehead, as he slowly advanced away from the lift and down the dimly lit corridor on sublevel five. The only sound audible was the soft tapping of the motion scanners pulses.

Ventura could feel the suspense building, knowing that at least one Demon was somewhere ahead of them in the corridors. The question was whether this guy or group was anticipating an attack. If that was the case he or they could very possibly have set up an ambush for them or there might be booby traps.

If it was only one soldier, this was what was commonly referred to in military terms, a goose hunt. Seven-Two was the hunting party, and the Demon was the goose…only problem, Ventura thought to himself, was that some geese could be dangerous.

Heading down the narrow passage, Ventura noticed a room opening up in front of them. Closing in, he could see it was a large round, two-storey room with a large computer console in the middle. The upper level, same as the lower level, consisted of a walkway around the room perimeter with multiple exits in all directions. Ventura imagined it to be some sort of control room for the mining equipment. Sneaking inside, he scanned the room over the barrel of his Impaler.

"Stop" Ventura could hear Zander's voice in his ear. Everybody hunkered down.

"I've got movement; three o'clock" Zander said easily.

Looking toward the three o'clock position, Ventura could not notice anything. Then his gaze rose to the second storey. Almost completely hidden in the dark shadows he could see a lone black figure, working on something at one of the door openings.

In complete silence he signalled the rest of his men. Zander read the hand signs; "Single target, three o'clock, above…Controlled fire – on me."

The rest of the group nodded in agreement – their Impalers lifting and aiming at the single Demon.

Now we will see just how effective this shield is, Ventura thought to himself, convinced that full fire from the whole group would run the target's shield battery empty and kill him within seconds.

The marines started firing as one. The Impalers flared, and a hailstorm of fire rained down on the single target. Again Ventura could see the blue flashes as the Demon's shield deflected the fire.

The lone figure dove out of the doors. Before Ventura could redirect his men, all hell broke loose. A sequence of explosions erupted from the multiple doorways that lined both upper and lower level walls.

The explosion sent rocks and debris raining down on Seven-Two, followed by a cloud of smoke and dust. Ventura realised that the explosion was rigged to shut the room down, to trap anyone inside to stay inside. It dawned on Ventura that the single Demon was probably busy setting up his ambush when they opened fire. And if his goal was to trap Seven-Two, and keep them from assisting Seven-One, he had probably succeeded – all the doors were blocked by piles of rubble.

…………………………………………………

Spengler was crawling along the desert sand, leaving a crimson blood trail. He was ignoring the blinding pain that was shooting up from his leg – knowing he had a brief window of opportunity to eliminate the group hunting him down.

He was circling around them, but still his senses were screaming at him, knowing that the advantage of his stealth suit was probably completely nullified. Lifting his scope again the three men appeared in front of him – their bodies displaying green on his infrared display. For the first time since making contact with these assholes, a smile played across Spengler's lips.

Never before had he taken pleasure in killing. In fact, never before this evening on this planet had he thought of killing as anything but a job. Now he relished the thought of ripping these jerks a new one.

……………………………………………………….

The "Reaper" missile was a classified piece of armament never before recorded in combat by Terran forces. For the moment, this would not change.

The stealth enabled missile, streaked across the open space of the Osiris system. The occupants of the Corvette known as Arc Angel, was unaware of their impending doom until it was too late.

The nuclear tipped missile consumed the Terran craft completely. No counter measures were deployed. No escape pods were released.

……………………………………………………………

Commandant Vritra was aware of everything that had happened in the last half hour. He knew that Aeron's squad had been killed. He was aware that Seven-Two was trapped on sub-level six. And he was aware that the ghost was probably going to kill the rest of his team soon. The only thing that convinced him that he still had the upper hand, was the fact that his reinforcements had arrived before the Diamond's did.

In fact, Vritra was still completely convinced that he was leaving Persephony with the Sphere in his hands.

He also realised that if that was going to happen, he would have to descend down the vent shaft right away, and relieve the Diamonds of the Sphere.

With that, he commanded his squad to descend. Him and his men, whizzed down the ropes that were dangling down the vent shaft.

Vritra was focussed on getting the sphere, and killing that single individual that had it in his hand.

…………………………………………………………….

Saunders was getting bored. Nothing had happened in the last half hour, and he suspected nothing would. He knew that Captain Mitchell and his men were heading upwards. Furthermore, all the Demons were on the levels above and none of them had any reason to return to sublevel eight.

He lifted his visor, and flipped another cigar into his mouth. Lifting his flamethrower, he used the pilot flame to fire up the cigar.

"Aaah shit", he murmured, still frustrated with his boredom. Taking the first drag of his cigar, he ran his hands over the large fuel containers that were stockpiled for the titanic Juggernaught mining vehicles.

Curiosity getting the best of him, he unscrewed one of the lids, sniffing the fuel. It smelled a lot like the special cocktail of napalm he carried in his flamethrower.

Carelessly he chucked the lid aside. I'm probably not going to see any more action tonight, he thought to himself.

Little did he know that the Demon that had trapped Seven-One on sub-level six was making his way down – looking to find and kill the Firebat responsible for his friend's deaths.

…………………………………………………………………

"Sir, we've got movement from above" Merlin said hearing a whizzing sound of the ropes.

"It's them", Mitchell said looking up into the darkness. "Follow me."

Leading his men, Mitchell knew he had to prepare his group to make a final stand. The Demons obviously knew where they were, and that meant they were sending everything they had down to sub-level five. They had figured out that the Diamonds were using the vent shaft, and now they were coming down it…it was going to get nasty.

…………………………………………………………………..

He came out of nowhere; like a black cat in the middle of the night. The Demon dropped down the shaft, took aim and fired. The rounds cut through the air around Saunders.

"What the f..." he said grinding on his teeth as he took cover. The attack was sudden, ferocious and non-relenting. The rounds were chipping away at the concrete column that provided cover for Saunders.

The Demon was out of reach of his flamethrower – and his gunfire was relentless. Remaining under cover, Saunders realized he had to do something – his enemy was probably closing in while firing.

Moving fast, he pushed the Juggernaught fuel container over. The fuel started pulsing through the opening. Quickly he unscrewed the second container.

A streak of bullets made him duck for cover once again. The bullets punched dust clouds up around him. When it stopped he kicked the second drum over from behind the column. The pool of green fuel was circling wider around him. Fortunately the gunfire would not ignite the fuel if a bullet hit one of the barrels. Unlike in the movies, it didn't happen that easily especially if the gun was is not firing tracers, and this one wasn't.

Keeping an eye on the pool of highly explosive liquid, he waited for the right moment. Shells slammed into the concrete over his head with pebbles ricocheting off his armour. He knew it was only a matter of time before the bullets found their target.

Getting dead was a real possibility, Saunders thought to himself. Then he noticed what he had been waiting for. The green fuel was pooling around the Demon's boots.

"Bye-bye", Saunders said flicking his thick cigar to the floor while lowering his visor. The cigar butt bounced off the floor, and a split second later the wave of fire widened in a concentric circle from where it hit. A moment later the whole area was completely consumed in fire.

Getting up, Saunders walked away, not looking back. For the second time in less than an hour he was smiling.

"Saunders three, Demons zero" he said as he strolled off through the fire, completely protected by his fireproof armour.

…………………………………………………………

Spengler slammed the needle into his leg. He was injecting himself with a cocktail of painkillers and adrenaline. He knew he had to perform at his best if he wanted to take on the three Demons in close quarter combat and come out alive.

The problem was that their shields would block any rounds he fired at them. And even though his rifle fired a powerful punch, he suspected it would not penetrate. Having witnessed the Impalers rain down on the shields at relative close proximity and not making a dent had convinced him.

And so, to be sure, it would be him and his combat knife against three Demons. He didn't have much choice since they would soon start tracking him again and therefore time was of the essence.

Feeling his heart flutter and a surge of energy and power wash over him, his pain melted away and he knew he was ready.

Two of the three Demons were crouching on either side of the one operating the Bio-Pulse, their guns pointing outward. Niurtu was nervous. It had been many minutes since their attempted assassination of the Ghost, and since then they have not been able to pick him up again. For him it was starting to feel if he was actually the hunted and not the hunter. Sobreisky was feeling much the same.

"I've got something…wha…" their commander uttered before the silhouette etched out of blowing sand dropped in their midst.

The titanium blade sliced through the commander's throat, leaving a blood smear on the silver-grey metal. The Ghost moved like lightning. Sweeping low with his left leg, he whipped Sobriesky's legs out from underneath him. Niurtu turned and fired, his rounds missing anything solid as they sprayed into the hot night.

Spengler's long blade flew straight and true and found its target as it sank into the firing man's skull. The machine gun fire died down, but Sobriesky leapt.

Having lost his rifle, he was now wielding his own knife and jumped toward Spengler. Pulling up his leg, Spengler managed to wedge it between him and his attacker. With one hand around Sobriesky's wrist keeping the knife away, he used the other to grab a grenade from the Demons combat vest, pulled the pin with his teeth, and shoved it into the Demons mouth before launching him back with his leg.

With wide eyes and his mouth full, Sobriesky stumbled backwards before his head exploded. As quickly as it started it was over, and Spengler breathed out with relief.

Ooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

The moment Arc Angler exploded, a red light blinked in the cockpit of Captain Jason Briggs. At first he thought it was a simple malfunction, but tapping and then doing a diagnostic check on his control panel revealed he was not as lucky.

"Arc Angel this is Stork One do you read me…"

"Arc Angel this is Stork One do you read me…"

A string of swearwords escaped Briggs's mouth. The time he had spent in the military had taught him that no operational complication was a small one – it was always worse than it seemed. And in nobody's book was loosing your lifeline – your only exit strategy, a small complication.

"All Storks listen up" Briggs commanded his drop-ship detail as he started flicking switched on his control panel.

"We've got bogeys inbound; number and approach vector unknown. Prepare for lift off, and keep the formation tight."

The three ships whined as they picked their own weights off the ground – the cross winds pulling at their bulky frames. Leaning over forwards, the drop-ships headed off.

The ship that had evaded detection by the Arc Angel would surely not be detected by the comparatively simple electronics of the drop-ships, Briggs thought to himself. And he certainly did not want to go the same way.

His plan was simple. They would enter a holding pattern in Thor's passage – below the surrounding ground level - ready to make a hasty escape if something approached. Meanwhile he would hope and pray to get a call from the men on the ground to come pick them up. What they would do after that, he had not figured out yet…

"Keep it steady boys", he eased his men as they dropped over the edge of the dark canyon.

[Please remember to review