When it happened, we were ready. We had been preparing for them for four years. They barely put up a fight. Corena, Bob, and I had them stunned and tied up in minutes. Not that I would expect anything less from Hyperion. When we left for Elpis in the Drakensburg, Hyperion was a barely functioning weapons and combat gear company. Now they're sending survey teams to Elpis.
The Colonel is fuming. We sit in her tent with the three remaining scouts. The rest we fed to the marines, who used them as target practice for what I assume was an entertaining afternoon. I wouldn't know, I'm stuck in here with these especially tight-lipped prisoners.
The staff and The Watcher are hiding, best Hyperion doesn't know about either yet, The Colonel said.
"We aren't gonna ask you again," Bob says, refueling his four-hose flame turret, "so tell us how you found this place."
Corena leans against a support pole, arms crossed, eyes narrowed, a single braid halving her face. Her prized possession, one of Best's many birthday gifts, hangs on her back, long and deadly, and probably weighs more than me. She calls it the Pitchfork.
The Colonel stops pacing, holding her arms out expectantly as if to say well?
One of the Hyperion scouts speaks up, trying to keep eye contact with The Colonel, yet his gaze keeps sliding to me on the other side of the tent. "I-I . . . look, can you tell that thing to leave? It keeps looking a-at me and," He shudders.
Bob cracks a grin, shooting me a sidelong glance, "He can smell fear."
For emphasis, I sniff the air and smile serenely. The scouts look ready to piss their uniforms. Corena watches us play with the quiet patience of a viper readying to strike. I can't tell what she's thinking but I know she isn't intent on sitting back and letting all the action go on without her.
"This thing is one of my men," The Colonel snaps. "Answer the question."
"I don't know, okay?" One of the scouts says, "We're just a survey team, you know—checking out the area, reporting back on anything we find, and leaving."
Bob snorts. "I don't believe you. Why would Hyperion send a team to Elpis? Why not, oh I dunno, Atlas? Hell, I'd even consider Tediore or Maliwan before Hyperion."
"What do you mean?" Another asks. "Atlas? We came from Helios."
"What the hell is a 'Heel-os?'"
"No, Helios. It's Hyperion's space station. It's in Elpis' orbit, there's no way you could have missed it."
Hyperion has a space station? Since when? When was the last time we sent a team up to the surface? From the looks on my companion's faces, they're thinking the same thing. The Colonel walks back to Corena and they speak quietly in the corner. Bob watches them, then turns his attention back on the survey team.
"Tell me about Helios," He says, cool and collected, with all the confidence of a man who knows he will soon get the satisfaction of a kill.
The Hyperion scouts catch on to this. "Why should we tell you anything? You're just going to kill us anyway."
Bob opens his mouth, closes it. He looks to me for help as if I know anything about interrogation. My training didn't go beyond sleeping anywhere and shooting anything, but to hell with it, they're already scared of me. I crouch down in front of them. Two fight against their bonds to look away from me. I never considered myself particularly frightening, but I've been around the same people since my transformation started. They're all used to me.
I nod at Bob, who still has his Dahl forehead implant. Mine fell out when almost all the skin on my face became purple and mottled. "You think we're Dahl. You think we're your enemies. We left Dahl. We're our own faction, and we don't care about your petty corporate wars. We just want to know what the hell is going on, and if you don't shoot at us when we release you, we won't shoot back."
Bob backs me up. "That sound good to you?"
Two of them nod. The other stays staring at the floor. Bob kicks his chair. "I said, does that sound good to you?"
"Yes," The scout chokes out. Hyperion may have a space station and armed scouts, but they're still all pencil-pushers and programmers; easy to break. It seems some things never change.
"So tell us about Helios," I say slowly, measuredly, making direct eye contact with each of them.
"Hyperion built the space station after the vault on Pandora was opened—" One of them starts.
The Colonel drops her pistol in surprise. The scout's head snaps up at the noise. "A vault?" The Colonel repeats, "On Pandora?" The scout nods and dread seeps into her face. Her eyes find mine and she shakes her head in disdain.
All we've worked for. These last four years of vigilance and waiting and a vault opened on Pandora. My heart sinks. The Colonel scoops up her pistol in a daze, eyes roving the curves and planes of the weapon as if it'll give her all the answers. She hands it over to Corena and clenches her fists.
Bob continues, trying to act like it doesn't bother him. "Keep going."
The scout keeps watching The Colonel as if she might lash out at any moment. I'm numb. How long has the vault been open? How long have we been sitting here, so sure of our mission, while some vault-hunting, Pandoran hayseeds unleash unspeakable eridian power?
"The . . . the vault was opened," The scout continues uneasily, "which was when Tassiter started the construction of Helios."
"Who's that," Bob grunts.
The scout looks confused, exchanging quick, hesitant glances with his companions. "Tassiter is the CEO."
I rack my brain trying to remember who the CEO was when we left. Some older guy. Scary. Smile like a cracked mirror. Turner . . . something.
"He started the construction of Helios in Elpis' orbit. We sent teams down to Pandora to salvage anything from the creature in the vault. It's eye powers Helios' laser. And recently we started making ambulatory robots, with legs instead of the one wheel, it's—"
"That's enough," The Colonel says. She waves her hand in a flippant motion. "Take them out."
The scout's eyes grow hopeful until Corena levels her gun and he realizes what The Colonel meant. She makes short work of them with The Colonel's pistol. Bob's mouth hangs open in surprise and his shoulders fall as the scouts' heads loll back.
"But I was going to . . ." He gestures at the turret and sighs.
Corena spins the pistol in her hand, no pleasure in the motion. She watches it twirl with narrowed eyes and a frown, brain working double-time.
"What do we do now?" I ask, throwing my hands.
"We leave the fissure. Not all of us, but we need to establish camps outside, expand our numbers. And I must see this Helios thing for myself," The Colonel replies, pacing again. "We can recruit and train the natives if we have to. Hyperion cannot open any more vaults."
"How are we gonna do that from the ground?" Bob asks, "They have a laser made from a vault monster! We have a couple of powersuits and some old fighter jets, most of which were stolen."
"I know . . . I know, but . . ." The Colonel takes a moment to think, hands pressed to her temples. For a moment I wonder if she can communicate telepathically like The Watcher. She opens her eyes with a clear, open expression on her face. "We take Helios."
Corena blinks. The gun stops spinning.
"We take Helios and we use the laser against them," She exclaims, the revelation putting a frantic edge into her voice. "The vaults hold immense power, this laser could feasibly . . ."
"What?" Bob demands. I'm about to do the same.
"The moon isn't safe anymore. There's no way we can save it like this. If we want to keep the vault from being opened we have to destroy it."