The Versk team can’t see outside the shuttle’s windowless hull as the transport drifts downward toward the jagged spine of a mountain range; they are unaware of the hidden anti-air sites that fractionally relax down as confirmation codes are relayed between AI minds, or of how the Murkata-Heisen complex’s massive blast doors grind open, welcoming the transport home like a wayward bee.

Lanis, however, is attuned enough to the subtle sensations of flight to guess that the shuttle’s odd descent does not match its climb, and she guesses that it isn’t a simple landing pad that it settles upon with a hydraulic groan.

The survivors of the Versk team slowly shuffle down the transport’s ramp, shielding their eyes against the sudden glare of artificial light. Lanis expects a hangar bay—some secretive base akin to the Versk suit complex, perhaps—but the scene that greets her is something else entirely, and it takes her breath away.

It’s more than a hangar. It’s a city.

The chamber in which the Murkata transport has come to rest could house a Fleet carrier and still have room to echo. Massive pillars rise in metallic intervals throughout the chamber, jolting a memory from Lanis of a fantastic dwarven mountain-hold from a book that she read as a child. From each of these internal towers sprays a webwork of brightly lit hallways and gantries, their lights winking overhead as they slowly shuffle people and heavy equipment from one location to the next.

Dozens of sword-thin intercept drones and heavier manned gunships lie in wait like dormant predators along the floor, while beyond them rest several more bulky shuttles like the one they’ve just arrived in on. Green-clad technicians run systems checks, running their hands along wingtips and ensuring that lance-cannons are fully charged, while groups of pilots linger in groups next to their ships, on standby for orders that may never come.

Lanis’ step falters when she spots a blue Fleet insignia on one of the shuttles beside them, but her attention is quickly pulled elsewhere, beyond the shuttle, to the far end of the hall.

Suits, four silhouettes of industrial warfare, loom against the wall. The dark-green Murkata mechs, hundred-tonners at least, aren’t as tall as the heavy insertion unit that she faced in the Cauldron, but they’re thick and brutish things all the same, and could still crush Hex in one hand.

Not for the first time, Lanis re-calibrates her understanding of Terra’s zaibatsu mega-corporations.

And Murkata is second still to Kaisho-Renalis, she thinks, mouthing a prayer, followed by an expletive.

Lanis’ reverie is interrupted as Murkata medical staff and security personnel swarm through the dazed Versk team. They rattle off corporate code-speak as they peel off several limping Versk technicians, triaging them with brisk efficiency. A pair of white-robed medics attempt to gently coax Lanis to one of the waiting gurneys, but Lanis grabs hold of Mirem’s arm and fiercely shakes her head.

“I stay with them,” Lanis says, gesturing behind Mirem; Ash, Sander, and Booker step up beside her in silent support.

A tall Murkata officer in tactical armor gives a calming signal to the two medics. He looks Lanis up and down, and takes in her protectors with a glance.

“You’re the pilot,” he says. It’s not a question, but a stated fact. “You need medical attention.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lanis begins, but Mirem interrupts.

“They’re here to help. You should at least let them take a look at your hands…” Mirem says in a low voice.

The Murkata officer’s pale mouth tightens fractionally.

“Where is your tech lead? Heinrich Moore?” he asks, scanning the crowd beyond Lanis and the others.

“He’s dead,” Ash says, pushing herself forward. “I’m tech lead now. And our pilot isn’t going anywhere without us."

The officer hesitates. He looks beyond them again, to the other Versk team members. He barks an unintelligible word, which is answered back by one of his comrades with a shake of his head. Lanis has the feeling that his orders are being updated through the implanted comms unit behind his ear.

“Fine. All of you then,” he says in a flat voice.

The medics give up on trying to entice Lanis into the waiting gurney, and instead she allows them to lead her out of the hangar. A pale door hisses open, and then they’re walking through brightly-lit metallic hallways, following a blue line on the floor.

“On behalf of Murkata-Heisen, I am sorry for your loss,” the Murkata officer says, bowing his head as he walks beside Lanis. “I will show you to our Heisen reliquary shrine, if you wish, when other matters are attended to.”

Lanis glances to Mirem, who gives the barest of confused shrugs.

Great, more corporate eccentricities, Lanis thinks.

They arrive at the Murkata infirmity, and Booker and Lanis are both coaxed into adjoining curtained cubicles while the others stand outside, speaking in low voices.

“You have five minutes,” Lanis says as a white-robed Murkata medi-tech enters the room.

The woman gives Lanis a rueful smile.

“Don’t worry, my superiors told me the same thing. You’re a woman in high demand.”

Lanis nods, and grudgingly peels off her pilot suit. She has to admit, it does feel wonderful to finally have it off. There’s a rapid-fire battery of tests and hand-held scans, the worst of Lanis’ bruises confirmed as simple contusions; her hands are cleaned and dressed by one medic, while another quickly draws her blood, and yet another wipes down nearly her whole body with some sort of antiseptic-smelling cleanser.

Meanwhile the medi-tech gently prods and scans the area around Lanis’ neural shunt.

“Remarkable.” the woman mutters. “I’ve never treated a Navigator before, but you seem grossly intact. You could use some sleep and a full neurological work-up, but I suppose that will have to wait.”

One of the medics steps out, and returns a moment later with a Murkata uniform.

“How did you know I was a Navigator?” Lanis says, her voice edged with suspicion.

The medi-tech smiles tightly.

“I’m familiar with other Fleet implants. That, and we had forewarning of your arrival. Here: some clean clothes,” the medi-tech says. She takes a green Murkata jumpsuit from the medic’s hands, and sets it next to Lanis. “If you don’t mind, we’ll put that pilot suit in the incinerator,” she says, curling her nose slightly at the blood-stained mess on the floor.

“Be my guest,” Lanis says, pulling on the clean shirt and pants with her bandaged hands. Despite her earlier suspicion and annoyance, she does feel remarkably better.

“All clear,” the medi-tech says, pulling open the cubicle’s curtain. Booker emerges at the same time from the adjoining cubicle dressed in a similar dark green Murkata uniform, sporting several new bandages over his left arm and head.

“Look at us. Fit for round two, I’d say?” he says, flashing a grin.

“You said you weren’t hurt!” Lanis exclaims, wincing at the way Booker tentatively clenches his left fist.

“I said it was just a scratch. And it was. But it still feels good to be patched up.”

“If we’re done here, my superiors are waiting,” the Murkata officer interjects. He and the medi-tech exchange a nod, and then they’re off, moving through the Murkata city-complex once again.

---

“What is this place?” Lanis asks as they enter a wide elevator. The Murkata officer scans his hand across the console and the elevator gives a gentle lurch, beginning its journey thirty floors downward.

The Murkata officer hesitates. Likely receiving some clearance from a superior elsewhere to share this information, Lanis thinks.

“You’re in a Murkata-Heinsen research and development complex. Hei-Core One is its name.”

“Shit," Mirem breathes. "I’ve heard of this place."

“Yes. Kaisho-Renalis has occasionally attempted penetration,” the officer says, his voice expressionless. He arches an eyebrow, looking sidelong at Mirem. “I believe that you’re the first ex-Kaisho to ever be granted entry. And certainly the first to have a hope of leaving alive.”

Before Mirem can attempt a response, the elevator arrives at its designated floor, its doors sliding open. The officer steps to the side and lowers his head.

“Please. The guiding committee is waiting for you.”

The elevator has deposited them into a large, gleaming, wood-paneled reception area. It looks remarkably out of place from the industrial hallways that they were in just a minute ago: the room is softly lit with an ornate carpet across its floor, and two large leather couches sit on either side.

From the dim shadows across the room, four massive, identical security guards step out and slowly approach their little group.

Clones? Lanis thinks, looking upward as one approaches her. God, he must be seven feet tall, at least. The guard gives a slow nod to Lanis, and then scans her body with a hand-held device. He checks the device, satisfied, and then moves on to the others. The enhancements they sport look like they could only be purpose-grown: their faces and hands are as much metallic as flesh, and every inch of their modified bodies looks purpose-built for destruction. Lanis exchanges a look with Booker, who gives an infinitesimal eyebrow raise of professional appreciation.

“Enter,” the first one says in a baritone rumble once they’ve all been scanned. “You, pilot, and you,” he says, nodding to Lanis and Ash in turn. “You three stay here,” he says, speaking to Mirem, Booker, and Sander. He gestures to one of the couches.

“Wait, why can’t—” Lanis begins, but Mirem shoots her a look of warning.

“That’s fine. Sander and Booker and I will be waiting here when you’re done. Right?” Mirem says, looking at the guard.

“Of course you may wait. You are honored guests,” the guard rumbles, his artificial eyes unblinking. He turns back to Lanis.

"Now. Enter. The committee awaits."

Lanis and Ash exchange reassuring glances with the rest of their team, and then move beyond the entry doors, which gently swing shut behind them. The hallway is short, but intimidating in its quiet luxury. They are flanked by dozens of softly-lit oil portraits of stern-looking men and women as they move down the hall, their footsteps silent upon the soft rug beneath their feet. At the end of the hall another massively enhanced guard waits, and another pair of double doors slowly swing open.

Raised voices grow quiet, and chairs whisper back, as the members of the Murkata-Heisen steering committee stand up to welcome their guests.