FREEFALL: A LT FREYA NOVEL - CHAPTER 3

Chapter 3

Killing Rooms

General Kiniro went to assemble a volunteer unit for the mission, leaving Freya alone in the former Governor's office. Freya had only just met Amelia Kiniro, but expected the woman would have no trouble finding volunteers. Leadership was a quality Freya had always respected. Captain Morrison had it. And she continued to follow his leadership even after his death.

She sat alone and recalled the last time she’d been in that room. She could still hear the screams of guards, guests and sex workers as Fox faced his death. Captain Morrison had linked a private communications channel among him, Freya and Kiira Lang. A direct text link between he and Freya, with read access for Kiira. He had tried to keep Kiira as distant from their treason as he could. If he and Freya had been caught he wanted Kiira to be safe. The link between their cyberbrains was still active but had remained silent since his death.

She knelt by the bloodstain on the floor and brought the text channel up on her HUD. For the first time in weeks she reached out into the void.

[I still forget you’re gone sometimes, Fox.]

[Other times I’m furious with you. For making me love you and then leaving.]

[But moments like now… I just want to live up to being the woman you thought I was.]

[Kiira is still alive, Fox. Somehow she didn’t die when your ship fell. Somehow she’s alive and she’s in trouble. I want you to know, Fox. I’m going for her. I’m going for her and I’m not coming back without her. I want to do the right thing, like you did. And if, like you, I instead find my end I want to face it like you did. You’d want me to live for you, I think. But if I can’t do that I want to die like you.]

She kissed the tips of her fingers and touched them to the spot where he had fallen. Tears streamed down the side of her muzzle and she wiped them away. With one deep breath she rose, her prosthetic leg whining as the hydraulics lifted her to her feet. She spoke out loud.

“We’ll get her, darlin’. I’ll bring her back to you. I know you loved her too. Just as much as I still do.”

Freya had been given a private cabin on the far side of the barracks. Most humans were not comfortable with a Vulp sleeping nex to them. She took her time returning to her cabin to follow the General’s orders and gear up. On her walk back she closely inspected what had been done to the former Governor's estate. The once indulgent mansion had been converted to a utilitarian space. The council occupied the estate, but telling them apart from the rebels, families and children who occupied the building was impossible.

Many still wore the drab one piece canvas uniforms that the UTF had issued to mine workers. They were stained and streaked with earth. Burnt from the heat of the tools used in Xenon extraction. Many had never known any other clothes and were happy simply to launder them freely now that the UTF was gone. Freya wondered how long the freedom would last.

An unusual sound in a far corner caught her attention. A mother, wearing the tattered remains of a miner’s uniform chased a laughing child. The child’s bronze skin and dark curls complimented the deep pink of the traditional Tangi dress she wore. It was bright, laundered, and crisp. Most likely taken from the Governor's daughter’s wardrobe, but it fit the child perfectly. The mother’s voice was hoarse and weak, but filled with love as she proudly proclaimed her daughter to be a princess. Every tired but smiling face they passed agreed. The two ran past rows of olive drab tents erected in the foyer. Old men sat on cots sipping stew from tin cups. Young men folded clothes. Rebellion familiars with clipboards walked hastily from tent to tent to take census and disperse provisions. She wondered where they had all slept and ate before the mansion had taken them in. Each of them had six square meters of space to themselves now. Dry and warm. Some wore relief on their faces, enjoying the simple pleasures of freedom. Others gazed off blankly, uncertain if the nightmare had truly ended. In Freya’s mind the nightmare continued and all of this was simply the eye of the storm. The UTF Aramada was en route. The Destroyer in the shipyard was still under UTF control. Without backup or good plan the rebels would be destroyed in the crossfire.

As she left the mansion and overlooked the former UTF barracks. At the edge of the camp a plenary defense canon pointed towards the shipyard to keep the Destroyer docked. She imagined hell raining down on the humans from an orbiting Armada. Even if the humans pointed the gun skyward the Destroyer would simply vaporize them from behind. She raised the countdown she’d set on her HUD. When it reached zero in four months death would come and all the humans she passed would be dust. A light breeze passed through her fur and she imagined it carried the remains of these people. She would die with them.

“But at least maybe I can get a few months with Kiira,” she sighed.

She climbed down from the mansion’s perch at the top of a hill. Skipping the rows of steps and lowering herself over the short cliffs of rock to the ledges beneath until she was back on base level. There was no civilian population in this part of the camp. Outside of the showers, her cabin, and the bar she had not explored the base. She had been an engineer on the Explosivo  under Captain Morrison for three years and seen countless UTF bases. The base on Tangi was surely the same as any other. The layout certainly appeared stock standard.

The priorities of the rebellion differed from the priorities of the occupation and it showed in how they used the space. Only six weeks into attrition and the base had completely transformed.

The Front had prioritized Xenon shipments and the comfort of the Vulp population. But resource management guided the rebellion. Storage hangers, which had previously maintained millions of drums of liquid Xenon, now consolidated food, clothes, and medicine. The water system which had previously been directed at the mines (to reduce dust and provide coolant) had been completely rerouted to for drinking and bathing. Lev-Carts now hauled food from the farmland to the stores, and returned to the fields with other resources. Census data was updated daily. Those who couldn’t work were given the same rations as the council, or the logistic managers for that matter. No one skimmed. No one starved. The United Front had, for years, branded their galactic imperialism under the motto: Security through unity and conquest.

The people of Roth, once they had freed themselves, had embraced: No one is expendable.

With their population decimated by five decades of occupation the motto was true both literally and in the intended moral sense. Their numbers were too few to lose even one more human to preventable suffering. And their unity was so strong that this fact was not debated.

Freya approached the edge of the camp where she had been assigned quarters. John too had been given a private cabin fifty yards from her own. While the humans were living in rows of tents, or allotted squares indoors- she and John had been given luxury. They had been assigned to the actual barracks they would have occupied during the occupation. Utilitarian but comfortable independent structures with running water, closets and their own cots. At first Freya had thought this was a gesture of kindness for her role in starting the rebellion. She had come to understand it was because the humans did not think she was capable of sharing as they did.

The ammo case beneath her bed squeaked open as she questioned if they were right about her. She wasn’t sure. She had not been invited to share with the humans. But nor did she volunteer to share more than her bed on occasion.

“No good thinking about that now,” she whispered to herself.

She loaded up as many plasma bolts as she could in her cargo pockets and belt before catching sight of herself in a dirty mirror above her own personal sink.

A dark red stain streaked across her cheek. She remembered touching Fox’s blood with wet fingers, and wiping her tears. She was wearing him.

A deep sense of loss crept into her chest and she pushed it out with a thought.

“Not the first time I’ve walked through this place wearing you on my face, hon.”

A smile reached her lips as she made a decision. For two months she’d only taken Fox’s jacket off to bathe and have sex. His scent still clung to the interior and she had spent every possible moment since his death wrapped in him. But, she reasoned, now was the time. The red and black leather was still streaked with his blood and the dirt of six weeks crawling in the forest. As she draped it on the bed she promised she would be back for it. But it was time for something different. Time to leave the UTF behind.

As she walked through the camp back towards the mansion the humans finally smiled at her. Each smile carried a sense of relief and she felt each one whisper: finally. She smiled back and raised a paw to them, index finger and thumb extended and the rest curled toward her palm. The “drackmar” - or the sign rebels had used to identify themselves during the occupation. It was the first time the signal had been returned by the humans since this all began.

Counting herself, John and Freya the General had gathered eight total volutneers. They met in the former Govorner’s office again, huddled around the main desk. Two of the volunteers were already working on pulling down a set of permanent bookshelves behind the desk. As Freya approached the small group the General raised her hand in the drackmar.

“Finally decided to join the rebellion, Freya?”

Fox’s United Front jacket had been replaced with a short hooded cloak. Dark in color, beneath which she could hide her light colored fur. The white fur of her muzzle was streaked with red boot grease beneath her eyes, to soften glare if the Mark I was needed again. Her prosthetic leg had been wrapped in leather, to deaden the sound of the hydraulics. Normally bare foot-paws were covered in dark steel toed boots. She looked around at the other seven who nodded in approval. Freya Storm had finally shed the uniform of the United Front.

“Thought it was time. What’s the plan, General?”

John cut in, “The Ghost Soldiers have a lab somewhere beneath the base. I can lead us part way there. They never let me inside proper. But I know the lab does connect with the mansion through this basement. It’s the most likely place they’d take Kiira.”

Just as he finished the final boards splintered free of the wall behind the desk. The bookshelves were in pieces at their feet revealing two smooth hydraulic doors.

John gestured toward the hidden opening, “It’s… somewhere down here.”

The General stepped forward and John dutifully shrunk back, “For all we know there’s a thousand Ghost Soldiers down there and they are all waiting for us. Or, they evacuated with the rest of the front when the shooting started and there’s just a handful. No idea what we’re walking into. I wish John could tell us more but…”

Shooting John a fond look the General continued, “I don’t think they trusted him any more than we would.”

“They weren’t wrong to distrust me if you think about it,” John added.

Freya stepped toward the door, “Their loss. Are we gonna go or hang around talking about it all day? How do we get in?”

Several of the humans gathered in a circle and began making hand motions which Freya recognized. It was a game of chance that could be played without dice or cards; she had often seen it used to randomize unpleasant duties among the rebels.

John and the General looked on with interest as a winner was declared. A young olive skinned man with a plasma pistol hanging from his leg harness rolled his eyes as the others patted him on the back and mocked him as bait.

“...Someone gonna explain this one to me or…?”

John walked up beside her, laying a paw on her shoulder and whispering, “They’re deciding who takes point. If any UTF security is still active it’s almost certainly biometric and calibrated to humans. Someone has to go first to spring the traps…”

The General patted the man on the back as he took point.

“You got this Danzen.”

Danzen nodded and clasped a necklace which dangled in front of his chest. He closed his eyes, looked up, and mouthed several words. Freya instinctively went to her own, the small square pendant given to her by Captain Morrison the night he died. When the prayer was over he took the lead and opened the double doors, pistol at the ready.

John walked up to the door and placed the pads of his paw against a small biometric reader.

“I should still have access,” he hoped aloud.

The reader sounded and turned green as the doors parted with a hydraulic whir.

“How about that? Some good luck for once,” he added as Danzen stepped in front of him.

A long sterile hallway stretched out into a pinpoint before them, tapering slowly downard. White walls accented with red stripes and dotted with the occasional hydraulic door or wide picture window. A faint sour-sweet smell blew past the unit as they crossed the threshold. Immediately the scent of death was recognized by all, and the sound of weapons being drawn clicked through the tunnel.

Danzen lead them forward at a brisk and even pace, Freya and the General directly behind them and John bringing up the rear. Danzen passed the first door with hesitation, his eyes locked on a small and familiar black box which loomed above the entryway. Freya followed a meter behind and as she passed the first door it whirled open. Danzen nearly knocked them over as he lept back, lifting his pistol toward the box above which had remained still and otherwise silent.

“It’s biometric, it only opens for Vulps,” The General said exasperated.

But before she could finish the sour and sweet scent overwhelmed them all.

Freya doubled over with paw over her muzzle and wrapped her cloak around her face.

“Whatever’s in there,” she coughed, “It’s not good.”

John hurried to the front, standing in the door before the general or humans could approach, “Stay behind. I don’t think any of you want to see this.”

The General understood and nodded to him with watering eyes.

He gestured for Freya to follow, “You… You might need to.”

Freya tightened the cloak around her muzzle and followed him to the threshold. White LEDs flashed to life above them as they entered, confirming their species.

“Don’t look away, Freya. This is what Captain Morrison died for,” John whispered.

It took Freya several moments to fully piece together the scene. At first the room resembled a standard UTF bio-lab. It wasn’t unlike the ones she had seen at starport when she went for maintenance on her cyberbrain.

Instead of glistening walls and sterile tools the long steel tables piled high with blackened flesh and rust colored stains. Yellowed ribs poked out from beneath the gore. Glinting blades dotted the floors where the manglers had dropped them during the evacuations. Dozens of human bodies in various stages of decay and dissection had been left to rot in the open. Wooden cutting boards piled high with diced flesh. Molded bowls of local plant life. Racks of small plastic tubes filled with colored powders hung against the far walls.

“Are those,” Freya began.

When her brain filled in the blank with ovens she understood. It wasn’t a laboratory. It was a kitchen. The image of Captain Morrison’s last night flashed in her memory. He had stood between the governor and a line of young humans. Plates of pate had been laid out behind them next to a large carving station.

“This is fucking sick.”

“I had… imagined this was going on. I passed these rooms when working for the Ghost soldiers. Never saw… this happening. But saw the bodies being taken back. Passed this room once or twice. All UTF designs are the same. This is the same kitchen I had on the Explosivo. I didn’t want to believe it. But… I think Fox knew. From what you told me about how he died. I know you haven’t told them the whole story. But he saw this didn’t he. That’s what he and Krieger argued about.”

Freya nodded. She had told the story of the Captain’s death to the humans when she was rescued that night. Governor Krieger had made Fox an offer he couldn’t accept. He blew his cover as a rebel, a traitor to the UTF. And was executed. She hadn’t had the stomach to say exactly what the UTF had been doing to their human servants when they were no longer able to work.

“Do we tell,” she gestured to the door and the unit waiting outside.

“I don’t know. Honestly.”

“They’ll want to bury these people, eventually.”

“I suppose so… didn’t think of that. Damn. Am I that jaded?”

“Doesn’t matter. Let’s get out of here.”

The General waited outside with a look of mourning already fixed on her face.

“Let’s keep going,” John said finally.

“What’s in there, John?”

Freya answered, “The black heart of the United Front.”

The General narrowed her eyes at them both. For a moment Freya recognized the look. It was the look strangers in the rebellion gave her. The look of hate when all a human sees is another Vulp. A sense of shame burned up the back of her neck and Freya rubbed the terminal fused to her brain stem. She thought of Captain Morrison and brought up the channel she had re-opened earlier.

[Fox, I’m going to dismantle the entire fucking Front. Somehow.]

“Later,” The general finally said and gestured for the unit to move forward.

Other doors. Other kitchens. Labs. Store rooms. Provisions. Each was investigated first by Freya and John. The ones with resources the rebellion could distribute were marked and the unit moved on.

Freya’s HUD calculated depth based on the incline of the hallway. They had descended nearly half a mile deep on a slow slope. The Front would have certainly used lev-carts. That none had been found in the mansion or thus far in the corridor meant they had been collected.

“Ghost Soldiers are still using this tunnel,” she advised when the thought struck her.

“I got that feeling, too.” Danzen said.

One of the unit responded, “Could be using it right now, with that cloak thing they do. Could be right here next to us. Waiting.”

“Right,” The General answered, “Which is why you should all shut up and keep sharp.”

“Right, Genera-” Danzen stopped as he saw a sudden pin prick of red light above.

“Wait,” he whispered.

The unit waited, breath held as Danzen glared forward.

After several moments of absolute stillness Danze lifted an open hand and motioned for Freya to step forward.

“You see it, too?” she whispered.

He nodded silently.

The light shone like a beacon on her HUD from beneath a small glass eye. Experience at Front outposts told her it was a biometric lens, with an infrared beam that calculated distance. When Freya had been a meter behind Danzen the beam had been strong and actively scanning the hallway. However, as she approached his side the frequency and scope of the scan dispersed.

“Freya, when you were one of the Vulps, uh, did you ever spend any time in the administration buildings here?”

“No, I never left the shipyard, actually.”

“Hm. You aware of the eyes?”

“Oh, fuck,” The General whispered.

“I don’t understand,” Freya answered, her paws reflexively gripping the handle of her Mark I.

“Biometric security. Unaccompanied humans were verboten in sensitive areas like this. About two years back Kreiger installed the Eyes to enforce that rule. If a human gets more than two meters from a Vulp in a high security area the Eye triggers a security protocol.”

“And what does that mean?”

The General piped in, “Depends on the area. Some of them are lethal. Some of them just lock down the area. Rebellion lost a few people to these, actually. If Danzen had been just a little farther in front of you this one would have gone off and… Not sure what would have happened.”

The General turned to the rest of the unit, “Huddle up around the Vulps. We’re all gonna be real close friends by the end of this hall.”

The unit took formation around the two Vulpines. Danzen, The General and a teenager with a standard Mark II circled Freya, the three others around John. Freya watched the Eye with her augmented vision and saw it power down as they huddled.

“Good catch, Danzen,” she muttered.

The unit proceeded slower than before. All eyes actively watching the walls for additional security measures as they inched forward. The main base had been mapped out by the rebellion during the occupation, but whatever security the Ghosts had was new territory.

After an agonizingly slow descent Freya calculated they had proceeded another quarter mile below the surface when finally the long white hall changed.

“What’s that?”

Just ahead a dark metallic arch spread itself between the walls of the tunnel. Even from 30 yards out they could all see the access panel built into the left pillar. Freya zoomed in on her HUD to read the screen as the group ground to a halt.

“Gimmie a second… it’s at the edge of my range.”

Unable to actively read the display she took several still shots of it and ran them through an extrapolator.

“Shoulda gotten the update from Sharak Deux on Tangi last time…”

“What?”

“Sharak Deux is a maintenance bot. I was due for cyberbrain maintenance last time I was home. Er. On Tangi. Planned to upgrade the processing speed of ancillary tasks that couldn’t be done organically. I’m trying to read the screen there but it’s gonna take a minute to process.”

As Freya’s program buffered the General took a pair of binoculars from a satchel on her hip and peered through them at the arch.

“It’s a security checkpoint. Whoever was supposed to be manning it would have gotten the data from the Eyes and been expecting us.” General Kiniro said with some satisfaction, “Right now it reads… It has Freya’s name and rank, the human count, and… Oh John you’re listed there, too but your name is highlighted. Looks like you were right.”

From the back John laughed, “Probably would have been shot on sight. My lucky day, I guess.”

Freya’s analysis completed buffering and she confirmed the Admiral’s summary but added, “We got a new problem, too. Everything beyond that checkpoint is Vulp only.”

“Well cross that arch when we come to it, come on.” The General urged.

Within a few moments they had reached the security checkpoint. An empty stool lay on it’s side near the terminal. Beside the stool they saw a molded sandwich and spilled mug of coffee.

“Looks like whoever they had stationed here cleared out in a hurry.”

“Freya,” The general said, “Can you find out if there’s any security still running?”

John added, “Yeah. I’d love to know if I’m gonna get vaporized if I go through this thing or not.”

Freya stood at the terminal and tried to navigate the screen. A small icon lit in the upper corner, indicating an active user was engaging the security checkpoint. She queried for a simple status report but was prompted immediately for clearance.

“Fuck,” she cursed, immediately reaching for her Mark I.

“What is it?” The general asked anxiously.

“It wants to validate my clearance. I can spoof it I’m sure but I don’t have long before it locks.”

Freya yanked the ribbon cable from her gun, sliding one end into her connection port and the other into an open set of pins on the terminal. She ran a homebrew program Captain Morrison had given her for emergencies, stored in active memory so as to avoid United Front cyberbrain monitoring. The software analyzed the type of verification the terminal used, and pulled from a database he had accumulated with Admiral Janeways help to provide valid credentials.

The first two attempts failed, resulting in a warning. One more failed access attempt would result in a total system lockout. Meaning they would have to take their chances when they crossed the security threshold. The credentials the software had provided were both of officers stationed on Stargazer station, midway between Tangi and Roth.

“Hmm…”

Freya reasoned the systems were keyed to local, not part of the main Tangi security network. Any off world officers would have no reason to have access.

“... Kreiger was courting Fox.” She whispered.

Freya paused the automated brute force hack and manually searched the database. The terminal beeped a warning. The timer to lockdown had begun. Ten seconds. Nine…

She made her choice. After selecting Captain Morrison’s bioprint and ID her cyberbrain spoofed the credentials.

Eight, Seven…

[KEY PASSWORD NOW]

Six, Five…

“Fuck,” Freya said, pounding the terminal.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know Captain Morrison’s password! He’s keyed in the system but it want’s his password.”

Four, Three…

Freya thought to herself, “Did he ever mean for me to get this far? He thought ahead, but did he think this far ahead?”

Two…

She keyed in the only password she could think of, gripping the charm on her necklace and praying like Danzen had earlier.

[F R E Y A]

“Password Accepted,” the terminal chimed cheerfully.

Freya let out a long sigh of relief as the security status scrolled across the screen.

“I love you too, Foxyboy,” she whispered to herself.

She perused the screen, trying to regain her composure and reminding herself she didn’t have time for those emotions at the moment. There would be time to grieve later. Time to worry later.

“Well. It’s bad news. And good news.”

“Out with it, Miss Storm.”

“Security is still active. Once we go through this arch if anyone is still watching they’re gonna know we’re here. And there’s an automated protocol in place. Humans are executed on scan. No exceptions.”

“And the good news?”

“Well… far as I can tell? Security is Plasma bolts. Nothing biochemical. Nothing… Well, still standard UTF security drone shit. Gun turrets built into the walls mostly. Meaning we should be able to actually see and take out anything that’s gonna take a shot at you.”

John stepped forward, adjusting the site on his Mark II, “I’ll take lead. I’m a better shot than Freya on the fly. I’ll shoot anything that’s a threat. Freya you take rear and watch for anything I miss. Uh…” he looked to the General, “If I mean that’s the plan, General.”

General Kiniro readied her own pistol and nodded to John, “You’re good. As good a plan as any.”

John knelt down at the threshold of the arch and peered through his scope down the hall.  His barrel swayed in small circles as he covered every visible inch pausing at anything that looked like it might be a turret barrel.

“Looks clear. Nothing ahead.”

General Kinro motioned for the unit to cross and move through behind her. Danzen stepped in front of her, “I’m taking point. Remember?”

John chimed in, “I said it’s clear, man…”

Danzen side eyed John, “Shut the fuck up. Man.”

Danzen stepped through the threshold first. Immediately as he crossed to the other side they all heard a mechanical sound from behind. Two turrets affixed to the rear of the arch centered on his chest and before he could turn to even see them, each turret fired three plasma bolts center mass.

Danzen dropped immediately. Dead weight before he hit the floor. The plasma bolts colderized his wounds upon entry and exit. His corpse lay bloodless and still at John’s feet.

“Fuck!” he yelled, raising his Mark II to fire on the first turret as Freya took aim on the second. Two shots from each later and the security guns sparked and sizzled, disabled and useless.

John looked down at Danzen and dropped to his knees. The bloodless death giving him false hope. But the smoldering wound and stench of burnt flesh confirmed his fears.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck…”

Amelia Kiniro stepped through the archway to sit by her fallen friend.

“General no, I-”

“Shh. Turrets are down. Next time, look behind you.” she ordered coldly.

The general knelt next to Danzen and placed her hand on the back of his neck. She prayed and offered the sign of the drackmar. When the silent prayer was done she yanked the necklace from around his neck and hunched over it, out of sight of Freya and John. After a moment of silence she pocketed the necklace and patted Danzen on the back.

“Ahead, 150 meters. Then we stop and check again for guns. Freya, you watch the rear. We’ll mourn Danzen when the mission is over. Understood?”

The unit nodded silently and followed the General through the archway, each offering the drackmar to Danzen in respect.

The tunnel lights dimmed the farther they descended. Every 150 meters the unit would stop. John and Freya would each fire two shots, taking out all the visible turrets, and then they would descend deeper into the darkness. As they reached one mile deep the darkness gave way. Freya had taken the lead on shooting out the turrets. Syncing to her Mark I via the ribbon cable and using computer assisted aiming to target the IR sensors of the turrets. When she had taken her last two shots she scanned ahead.

“Wherever we’re going… we’re there. Think it’s safe to use flashlights. No more eyes. No more turrets. Seems we’re at the end of the security protocols.”

“That wasn’t so bad. Considering.” The General added, “I guess they presumed the UTF wouldn’t be cowering in a shipyard while the humans broke into their secret base, eh?”

Freya nodded as she clicked on a palm sized LED, “Yeah. This tunnel would have been flooded with security by now when the UTF was in charge. Though what’s left…  they know we’re here. You’d think we’d have seen someone by now.”

John stepped forward into Freya’s light and peered down the hall, “Whatever the Ghosts are up to. Must be way more important to them than us…You see that, Freya?”

Freya zoomed in with her HUD, “Yeah, good eye.”

“What is it?” The general asked as they inched forward.

“An elevator.”

The unit reached the elevator terminal and Freya took to the controls. There was no security protocol, nothing to hack. Just a single bio-keyed button.

“Good news. Just one button.”

“Where does it take us?”
“Down.”

Freya placed her paw on the scanner and allowed it to read her DNA signature.

Instantly the sound of machinery spraing from the walls and several dim purple lights illuminated just above the elevator entrance. A hydraulic double door pulled open and a simple, clean steel interior was illuminated before.

“Going down.” Freya said.

The group piled in, one by one, and readied their weapons as Freya closed the door.

The elevator’s sudden drop caused everyone to sway and experience a moment of nausea. Freya leaned a paw against the wall and favored her gyroscopically stabilized prosthetic leg. The humans were not so lucky and she reached out to help the General balance on the long and accelerating decent.

Freya watched the depth count on her HUD rise. One mile. Mile point five miles. After a nauseating ride the elevator’s decent slowed and finally stopped. Just shy of two miles below the surface the hydraulic doors pulled open and Freya shielded her eyes from the blinding brightness which poured in from behind.

As she squinted and her HUD compensated for contrast, she was the first to see the strange and beautiful landscape before them.

“Oh my fucking… wow.”

“What is it, Freya?” the General said shielding her eyes.

“It’s… impossible.”