The Rooks beamed into Innes just before dawn.

For a moment, they could stand in the blue-grey light of a world holding its breath. The city stretched out before them like it was painted from both nightmare and dream, beautiful and broken. Innes had always stood apart from the massive cities of the binary stars of Alpha Centauri. Where the capital and those liked it reached upward in glittering towers, Innes sprawled, graceful stone buildings threaded with glass, wide avenues framed by century-old trees, plazas expansive and beckoning to gather people.

That grace was now shattered.

Their beam-in point was a narrow lane off Virellon Square, once a quiet marketplace lined with cafés and independent boutiques. Now, shopfronts stood dark, windows shattered or blacked out with soot. Cobbled walkways were cracked from the tremors of orbit-to-surface blasts. Smoke stains trailed up the white facades of old apartment towers. Innes had not been taken gently.

When the moment passed for the Rooks to hold their breath, too, they moved fast. Cassidy took point, his frame hunched and steady beneath his dark coat. Rosewood followed, face hidden by the low hood of his threadbare sweatshirt, unable to keep his eyes off the familiar landmarks warped by war. The others followed, silent shadows scanning rooftops and alley mouths.

They took the back streets, between old brickwork cloisters, ducking under awnings and weaving through half-collapsed balconies. Twice they had to press flat against walls as Vaadwaur patrols passed: soldiers in their rugged, practical armour, walking in twos and threes, polaron rifles held loose but ready. There was no need for the patrols to announce their presence as they swept the streets. The silence of Innes had become obedience, which meant that if the Rooks held quiet, they could disappear from sight.

Cassidy held them still until the patrols vanished, then nodded once. ‘Move.’

They passed what had once been a public amphitheatre, now filled with ash and debris. A wall had collapsed, revealing the foundations beneath, the steel bones that had lain under its marble skin. A graffiti tag still survived on one corner.

HOPE BURNS LAST.

Rosewood stared at it for a beat, the scent of ash in his nostrils. This city had only been taken in the past weeks. Already it had been reduced to this. Still he could smell its death. Then he pressed on, eventually stopping by a narrow side street. ‘This is it.’

The power substation at the corner was an older facility, its access port built into the pavement beside an overgrown bush. Rosewood dropped to one knee and brushed away dust, revealing the faded city emblem on the hatch.

‘One thing Ranicus found I hadn’t known about were these utility tunnels,’ he explained. ‘From the first century of settlement. They go under half the city.’

‘You’re sure,’ checked a cautious Nallera, ‘they get to the comms spire?’

‘They’re sure,’ said Cassidy roughly as Rosewood lifted the hatch. ‘Anything active down there?’

Rosewood peered into the dark. ‘Only the rats.’

The tunnels were so old that the ladders were missing rungs, and here and there the Rooks had to shimmy down the access shaft by bracing against brickwork. But once they were at the bottom, boots scraping against solid masonry, picking their way over long-abandoned cable conduits, they were in tunnels that had been built to last.

‘These must be pre-Federation,’ whispered Aryn, though his voice carried in the dark.

Rosewood nodded. When he lifted his torch, it cast long shadows ahead. ‘From here, they run all the way up the hill and under the comms spire. Which is also pre-Federation. Loads of sections have been sealed off when they built new mains. We had to dig through a lot of maintenance records from the twenty-second century to be sure the route was clear. No reason for the Vaadwaur to know these exist.’

‘Let’s not assume,’ said Cassidy. ‘Watch our six, Three.’

There was the sound of Nallera unholstering her phaser pistol. ‘You got it, Boss.’

It took twenty minutes of ducking through narrow passages before the tunnels began to incline. The ground underfoot became slick with condensation. Twice, Rosewood had to take a turn he hadn’t expected after consulting the records on his PADD, natural collapses over the centuries forcing him to navigate different routes.

Cassidy sucked his teeth as they took another turn. ‘We’re on a timer. If we can’t get there quick enough…’

‘The defenders can coordinate. I know.’ Rosewood tried to sound light, confident, but somewhere above, the city was beginning to pulse with the faint sounds of shuttles, foot traffic. Innes was awakening, and war would come soon.

Minutes later than he’d have liked, he stopped and pointed at a hatch. ‘That’s it. Shaft up’s behind that. Used to be a maintenance access to the comms tower.’ He had to wipe the grime and dirt away before he could work the manual override. It gave way with a hiss of stale air, and behind it, a narrow crawlspace stretched up at an angle.

Cassidy peered over his shoulder. ‘If it leads to the tower, that’ll be defended.’

‘It leads to the sub-level. Right beneath. Used to be support infrastructure – power couplings, cooling lines.’ Rosewood shrugged. ‘New mains don’t need any of that. It’s not been relevant for centuries.’

‘Let’s hope it’s not relevant to the Vaadwaur, either.’

They slipped inside one by one, the tight climb silent except for the soft thud of boots on metal and the echo of their breathing. The hatch at the top was even more rusted and difficult, and this time it took Nallera straining to help Rosewood open it.

‘Sure hope,’ whispered Q’ira behind them, ‘nobody’s on the other side.’

Aryn gave her a look, his tricorder shining in his hands. ‘We’re clear. Just as we scanned. Guards are on the exterior this time of day.’

They moved through to a sub-level of abandoned equipment long-defunct, but at the stairway up into the main comms facility, Q’ira signalled a stop. It was her turn to pull her tricorder, sweeping up the access way.

‘If I just wanted this facility locked up tight, without having the time in a mere three weeks of barbaric occupation to go over every single inch of every single sensitive location,’ she mused, ‘this is where I’d leave a security measure.’ She clicked her tongue a moment later. ‘Definite power signature.’

‘Alarm or trap?’ said Aryn at her shoulder.

She looked at the door up. ‘Both. With a lock thrown in for good measure.’

A muscle worked in the corner of Cassidy’s jaw. ‘Can you get through it?’

Q’ira made an impatient noise as she advanced on the door. ‘I only just figured out it exists. But – yes. It doesn’t look like Vaadwaur bespoke technology. It looks like they jerry-rigged something with the old infrastructure modules, and the good news is that makeshift security made out of old Federation tech is really popular…’

She pulled her toolkit from her jacket, and hunkered down by a conduit junction to peel back the outer casing. Aryn took a knee beside her, offering a free hand to hold and pass things as she worked. Sparks flickered, and Rosewood realised there was a faint gleam to the door up only as it pulsed, dimmed – and died.

‘We’re clear,’ said Q’ira.

Cassidy nodded. ‘Move.’

From here, they could move directly to the main chamber at the base of the comms spire. Any other route in meant passing through checkpoints and guards, and glimpses through doorways showed turrets, uniforms. This was not the most heavily defended part of the city, but any other route in would have meant a fight. Now, they’d come in right under the Vaadwaur’s boots.

At the base of the main spire, Nallera swung her satchel around. ‘I got the charges. Nobody’ll come up through here.’

As she worked, Cassidy watching her back, it took Rosewood, Aryn, and Q’ira a little longer to find an active console. The control room itself would be guarded; this was for physical maintenance, foundations. In the end, Aryn found one display screen and tutted that it would have to do.

‘Do?’ Rosewood echoed, too quiet for Cassidy to hear.

Aryn gave him a level look. ‘The risk is security, not efficacy. So I upload the Wraith programme from here, and we need to make sure we’re fast.’ He jacked in with his PADD, and as Rosewood watched, the data interface flickered, glitched – then stabilised as Falaris’s code took root and began to spread.

‘By security,’ said Q’ira quietly, ‘you mean they might know someone uploaded something right from here, even if they can’t stop it?’

There was the distant thud of Vaadwaur boots from above. Rosewood reminded himself they’d heard this all along.

‘Charges are live,’ hissed Nallera across the chamber.

‘Package is uploaded,’ Aryn confirmed.

Cassidy exhaled once. ‘Let’s go.’

Retracing their steps was easy, though Q’ira made sure to restore at least power to the security measures they’d taken down to minimise signs of their passing. If Aryn was right that he’d uploaded the virus through a less-secure access point, it didn’t seem the Vaadwaur had yet noticed. And if they did, the charges could take care of anyone looking too closely.

So long as the Rooks were far enough away.

The hum of the city from above as they moved back through the tunnels was steady. Innes was awakening, Rosewood thought, but the Vaadwaur occupation stopped it from bursting to life at dawn, this bustling hub of the Federation springing to meet every day with joy and vigour.

But when they eased back into the alleyway through which they’d entered the tunnels, the sound of the city was louder than he’d expected. There was movement at windows – not guards, but civilians, awake and stirred at dawn. At the mouth of the alley, shapes of locals filled the streets, shuffling.

Cassidy frowned, looking from the Rooks to the civilians, and keyed his comms. ‘Rook One to Blackbird. Something we missed while we were below?’

There was a beat before Falaris’s voice came through. ‘Affirmative, One. We picked up a message across local comms in your district. Summons to Virellon Square. Mission status?’

‘Objectives complete.’ Cassidy grimaced. ‘Summons?’

‘From the main Vaadwaur garrison.’ She paused. ‘From Commander Drehm.’

Nallera sucked her teeth. ‘Can’t they just beam us out from here?’

‘Negative, Three.’ That was Ranicus. ‘Local forces are stirring in your area. Too much movement, too many lifesigns. For us to get a solid lock on you, we’d have to up our sensor power. You either need to get somewhere quieter, or wait until the fireworks start.’

Once Sirius Squadron arrived, Rosewood thought, the Blackbird didn’t need to stay hidden.

‘How long?’ he checked.

‘Fifteen minutes.’

They’d lost more time in the tunnels than he’d hoped.

Cassidy nodded, scowling. ‘We’ll hang tight -’

‘We should go,’ said Rosewood, tilting his chin up. ‘See what Drehm wants.’

‘I don’t -’

‘If people are being summoned, and we try to not follow, and soldiers find us, that’s going to look suspicious.’

Cassidy looked like he wanted to argue, but knew he couldn’t. Nostrils flaring, he nodded, and spoke again on comms. ‘Catch us when the fireworks start, Blackbird.’

It was going to be, Rosewood thought as they moved to follow the crowd, quite a show.