The vessel approaches the U.F fortress planet. Overtaken and used as a military stronghold, the planet revolves in spinning orbit as a sphere of blue, streaked with white clouds- the surface a mass of mainly uncharted oceans which make the small world beam into the depths of inky, black, space. On the seven moons which circle the planet, like in some elaborate, procured, Greek god play thing, U.F defense bases monitor- protecting the planet from any would-be rescuers of the multitude of prisoners held beneath the waves in great, feats of engineering that guarantee no means of escape for Allies or other enemies of the dictatorship.

Undetected. A nothingness on U.F, primitive-in-comparison, radar, the vessel shifts smooth through space to orbit the planet. The vessel's shields are lowered just as the first moon base's computers begin to fold and be consumed by computer bugs. In sharp succession, the advanced alien craft releases missiles into the first base, then the second, then the third but with speeding velocity until it is like a colossal firecracker of armaments, launched as the bases erupt. U.F defense craft break out and down into blue seas, thousands of miles below. On board, Cutter observes the craft trying to lift off but failing- sucked back into menagerie of chaos.

The orbiting vessel circles planet. Scanners observe defense posts for any remote possibility of life. The moons still flash colour of explosions but they extinguish to nothing in vacuum. No defense craft rise from underneath planet's oceans.

Two small craft break out and down from the vessel's underside. On board, Reed sends the order for the Allies to move in.
*
She is knelt on the floor. The guard watched her drop there off the wall, noticing that she's slightly concussed still. The guard always thinks that this prick of an interrogator is too heavy handed, even in his line of 'work', 'as if they're going to tell you....it's pointless to keep beating on some prisoner!''

He picks her up, letting the female's light frame move in his hands. The guard is nineteen stone, six foot seven. Too big for field duties but ideal for such work as guarding prisoners. The woman's feet dangle as he lifts her, accidentally, always forgetting his own strength and size. "Sorry," he whispers, always forgetting that he should not make any informal contact.
She lets out a small, insignificant laugh under breath- audible for just her and the guard.

The interrogator offers her a cigarette, moving forward so that she can easily reach into packet and take one.

"I don't smoke," she replies, smirking irony.

"Good," the interrogator smiles back, then slaps her with all the weight and might that his arm can deliver, feeling a nice warm glow of joy spread over his hand and well being.

The guard has let go of her in surprise and disgust, knowing that if he held her it would have been worse. He scowls at his superior.

"Pick that bitch up," he orders, somewhat annoyed at the guard for dropping her.

Reluctantly the guard bends over the woman.

Behind the interrogator a door slides open. Two prisoners (male) look shocked as a form, only just distinguishable, throw some an object in the direction of the interrogator's head. He had been 'working' on them earlier. Both think they are seeing things due to head injuries.

The guard releases the woman. As his head turns to look at the only entrance/exit to the cell, a star-shaped weapon imbeds into the top of the bridge of his nose. He covers his eyes as though blinded, fingers tentatively playing with shruiken.

The torturer sturnbles slightly as Walker's sai is dug smartly into the base of his skull, brain switched off.

Irons watches the guard fall on top of woman as the poison tipped implement immediately takes hold.

Cutter draws back into dimly lit corridor.

Irons turns the guard over onto his back, struggling to move the weight, moaning a bit like a body builder as his strength rushes to muscles needed. The woman is winded, roughed up but nothing serious. "Are you well?" He asks. The woman cannot speak for wishing to regain breath but nods. He removes shruiken. Replaces into garments, hidden away.

Quickly, he moves over to the cancelled U.F officer. He tugs out Sai. Then tosses it to Walker in corridor. "Okay, major," he addresses one of the prisoners hung on wall, "let's go."

The second man watches on pathetically, feeling as though his ordeal of torture, etc, is not over. "All of you of course," Irons smiles as he unclips their bonds.
*
Darkness engulfs the entire prison. Captives and guards alike are immediately thrown into concern that will soon escalate into panic as the emergency power fails, then re-ignites as back up lighting circuits hit. B-team from the vessel, steadily progress according to plan. Air generators, sucking oxygen from above sea level, still remain in operation, untouched by their preparation to take the U.F stronghold.
*
Five hundred guards, lost and being picked off in disparate groups; sometimes alone, unarmed from their quarters, as two teams pick them off under the aid of night sights, allowing the darkness to work for them.

Over two hours now, the prison doors, locks, security systems open under the control of A and B team; paving a way for arriving Allied forces which are beginning to storm the upper levels.

"Sweeping down to Level 20," Walker cracks off communications.

"Confirmed A. North sector of Level 19 cleared. Following down to 20," Reed checks as another door unlocks before him.

The experienced soldier speeds down to twenty with rest of B squad. A manual lock (as all the other level main entrances) greets him.

He cracks it open with a charge, "open A."

"Open confirmed B," Cutter responds.

"We've got thirty in our proximity, strayed," the Sergeant checks his scanner, hand held, as U.F guards stumble about in the dark, showing as red dots on tiny screen.

He ceases communications. Walker has already entered twenty. He advances from his end, covered by team, A and B about to converge in special forces trained pattern, stasers readied. Down corridors that have been mapped onto all their minds; knowing the whole fortress/prison inside out and back to front. Stasers used but hand to hand preferred because a) close quarters combat necessary, b) sai, shruiken, etc quiet and c) stasers illuminate position.

Cutter stops. U. F comes towards them.

They all crouch down, stasers aimed. Lee sights one in his weapon. Dobrovowski lies beside Wheeler who takes up rear, covering behind with laser cannon.

Two more enemy have joined the huddle of three, calling out to each other. Eyes wide, trying to suck in any light. One carries a small hand cannon.

Walker aims to him first, twenty feet away and closing. Lee watches for his signal out of the corner of his eye.

The corridor explodes with sudden intense bright light. Fire flashes into men confused and wishing to get away as bolts of energy tear through them. The U.F with firearm is already dead and dropped, backward falling, half right of face missing.

Wheeler arcs cannon around as bolts of energy (designed to) bounce of walls and strike into targets at angles. Dobrovowski keeps a check on behind them.

Noise and light cease. A stink of burnt flesh, blood boiled, rises in smoke.

Walker gestures to Wheeler by use of hand signals: three in room, second on the right. To Lee he signals: three further up around left corner, armed. The team leader clicks back scanner into jacket.

Wheeler motions to the room on right. A squad haven't moved at all, knowing they can fill the space before them with enough energy to clear the equivalent of a small cargo hold.

A flare suddenly appears thrown toward A squad.

The Sub-man blasts at the arm of U.F who threw it. The flare tumbles toward them; homing in on their body heat, exposing their position. He flicks a switch on his weapon, squeezing trigger three times. Gas and smoke plume against the four surfaces as shells break, the vents taking it up corridor toward enemy who were about to advance.

The scene flickers in light, as the flare glares and shadows fall, marking their flickering forms in the smoke and walls.
Wheeler covers Lee, Walker and Dobrovowski as they advance.

More flares are let off as the smoke consumes everything. Without warning just as the three from A squad are about to turn the corner, hearing hacking coughs, shots fire out in confusion. Cutter watches as Dobrovowski is hit by two or three energy bolts that absorb into his clothes, into flesh, surprisingly not issuing blood everywhere. He falls back.

Lee with Walker, empty out cartridges into where shots came from. Wheeler drags back fallen trooper.

Smoke clears.

Their staser magazines are empty. They reload, something moves to side of pair, a few flares are thrown down.

Wheeler puts down covering fire . A U.F guard drops.

Walker rushes into room, withdrawing a sai and cutting across a guard's lower abdomen. Cut clean. He spirals back and then forward, his weapon firing off. Cutter rises and controls man, blood running. One attacks with fists, other reloads weapon. He withdraws sai from right and blocks guard whom tries to punch him. With left hand gripping other sai he swings it down across punching, unarmed man's neck. It connects at the very tip, opening a main artery.

Remaining guard brings up weapon but is too late as Walker spins right and stabs down into his right shoulder, kicking away. The weapon is dropped. He screams for a split second as the leader of A squad rests his left sai blade on arm and uses butt-end (handle) into the point where the nose ends and forehead begins; the guard who had a chance ceases.

Walker shakes off blood from blades in one, short, snap of weapons. He replaces them to his torso, they shrink into a pair of small rods. His staser hangs lose at his side on strap. He grips it once more, hearing shots being fired down passageways.
*
"How?" Walker asks.

"Don't ask me how..it just didn't effect me. A slight, uncomfortable tingling, like an electric shock. That is all...that staser was set to full. It should have blown a hole straight through me," Dobrovowski stands before the main hall of level twenty with Walker, Lee and Wheeler.

"This presents all kinds of possibilities," Lee comments, keeping a check on scanner for anymore U.F coming through area which they have just cleared.

"A squad. A squad," Reed's voice issues from radio.

"A squad receiving," Walker informs into mike.

"Section cleared over."

"Confirmed on this end. State position, over."

"West of sector imminent converge as planned, over."

"Confirmed B," Cutter pauses, knowing that the final level is going to involve both teams and is going to be that much harder. They are now deep below the seabed. The obstacle before both squads is a holding bay. There they shall meet and continue further down.
*
The doors open and a rush of stale air escapes. Everything they see is in red night sight vision. The space that they enter seems to reek more and more with each step. A and B squad converge in the middle. Their scanners reveal no U.F presence. Allied forces are moving down releasing P.O. Ws.

"What the fuck?" Dobrovowski steps on something, surprising him to the extent of calling out.

Walker and Wheeler spin around to where Dobrovowski pulls his foot out of something that squelches through the air, fetid, like a sick movie in which aliens are all wet and slimy. Both teams turn up their night sight to observe clearer.

Lee quickly snaps into gear as he watches the area Chris draws back from. He checks his scanner again, "nothing alive here," he says to any person listening.

Walker draws close to the retreating Dobrovowski. He stops him, holding tall man's shoulder, quietly uttering, "what is it Christ?" The tall man shines his torch at what he just trod on. Light beams in a pale neon blue over various colours of flesh, rotting.

Wheeler kneels beside a corpse of what once was human, lying contorted in the holding bay. A metallic object is attached to the neck of the corpse who seems to have dissolved as a result of the cigarette-sized instrument. The male or female's mouth bares teeth, difficult to tell what it may be have been. He pulls out a tooth from mutant, it comes easily with a quick shluck. Holding up the tooth in light: a pointed, primeval carnivore tooth, like the rest in his or her's mouth.

Flashlights sweep over bundles of bodies which seen to multiply as A and B squad scan. Tools of genetic manipulation are found in crates. Instruments of torture like dental and surgical equipment (some still wedged in what were once humans) on display throughout the space in a state of disregard.

Coming across the wide hall, Walker runs a scan over first corpse. The wide-eyed gait of it before his feet shifts like a fleeting spirit, flitting so briefly out of the corner of his eye; almost unnoticeable. He locks onto the movement, reflexes sharp. Guiding staser in one graceful movement, stench stinking sweet now like a mass of souls joining together in an exodus of movement, he hears Wheeler cursing.

Corpse and commotion erupt. In the breath of a second, he squeezes his trigger. Like a signal for the others, staser fire breaks into waves. Heavy handed but relying on self-preservation, A and B (now one) flow with each other as the situation reveals itself to be out of control.

A child like creature bites into Wheeler's android arm as he swings it up, sending the deformed infant spiraling through fetid air, cut by energy bolts.

Cutter steps back. Grabbed by grotesque woman thing in a powerful grip. He throws the putrid existence over his shoulder, first firing back into her face. Coming up from stooping and twisting in a classic judo throw, firing at a second thing to the left of him.

They are beginning to be over run. As one is killed, two more come back. Geometrically multiplying. He fires at more that are pulling down Dobrovowski. They fall instantly but more make a move for him. Three surround him. One is immediately dispatched by Chris firing energy into it. Second shot misses, hitting Walker in the chest as the Polish descendant disappears under a bundle of mutants.

All around his men are suffering the same treatment- mutations of humans intent on killing them all; using sheer force of numbers. Walker unleashes fire power- it is to no avail.

'Tactical retreat,' Walker thinks as he lets off rapid bursts of fire max' setting; 'too little time to radio Allies.' He calculates in a flash of thought that would break a normal human being in two, proposing to seal off area if they can get out alive.

More drag at him. Crap of human-things splatter over walls. The large yellow flashes of staser fire light the zombie movie scene, Cutter squeezing trigger twice- three shots go off, then three more, as he contemplates putting weapon on continually fire regardless of ricochets.

With clear space to think and retreat, the leader notices his arm is numb. A large gash is run through it, the mark of a claw or something has gone through deep. 'Is this another new talent of ours? To ignore personal injury? This could be an even bigger problem than be resistant to staser energy.'

From above larger things drop. Twice the size of the human. This time they are more like beasts rather than anything hoping to pass off as human. 'Is this meant to make us fear more? None of the mutant humans had claws. How have I got this injury?' Walker cuts the thoughts off in his mind. He lets off more blast bolt energy. The beasts approaching are scattered; falling and screeching under dismembered limbs and torn bodies, some sticky fluid representing blood, retching everywhere.

Cutter realizes they are all going to be terminated. Despite Lee, Irons, Reed, using blast setting on stasers. They pour from ceiling, creatures that are larger than the ones before: one beast with two heads and multi limbs, some with grotesque Greek legend appearances, contributing to the nightmare- coming from left and right, in front, behind, knocking the soldiers down.

The other Sub-man, Slyth, has been enjoying the onslaught. He has stood and watched. They seem to avoid the alien. To ignore him. Walker's view of the treacherous alien goes red as flickering, head jolting, blood in his eyes, he loses staser, unable to withdraw sai, about to be crushed to death by a beast that is three times the size of him, a cross between a minotaur and a rather large wart hog. Holding him down with one large hoof, its head scraping on ceiling. Somewhere Wheeler curses for the shit end to his life rather than a glorious battle. Yellow blasts of energy spark occasional.

"STOP FIRING! FOR CHRIST'S SAKE CEASE FIRE!!!" Lee's shouting stops the noise, not only the blasts but the screeches, cursing, wails and growls.

Blackness holds.

To the left of Cutter, Reed moans in pain. The stench is gone. There are only the voices of A and B squad.

Lee calls out again. His voice booms from twenty feet from Walker and Reed's position. Confused soldiers can be heard checking if fellow men are o.k. in hushed whispers.

Walker has lost night sights. He finds it bright, putting back on, but discovering one of the lenses has been smashed. Through left broken lens his eye receives clear sight, as though a light switch has just been turned on; the scene before him is much clearer than his right eye aided by night sight.

There are no living corpses or beasts at all. The others wonder around like some accident victims that are under a trance. The only damage seems to be on the walls and crates, which held supplies and such like, no torture instruments.

Reed moans once more. He nurses a head wound leaking a steady trickle of blood, nothing serious looking as Walker checks other team leader.

"Are you okay?" Lee approaches.

"Yeah sure. Must have hit my head on a...crate or...something," the veteran replies slightly ashamed.

"Lee get on to our Allied friends and make this a no go area," Walker takes off night sights.
*
They walk toward the Slyth that fiddles with a contraption on the far wall by door. It rips off a security cover as though the device were made from cardboard. With a loud crash, old-fashioned steel hits the floor. The others are now noticing that Walker can see perfectly without night sights. They look at each other puzzled. "Try it," he offers.

Walker picks up buckled metal from floor. The Slyth points to the device, which caused them so much aggro'.

"A poor joke indeed," Cutter drawls, "this is force 357 to Sheffield over."

"Allied ship Sheffield receiving. What's happenning? You're early. Status Private Walker?"

"Level twenty taken. Prime objective within range. Proceed with remaining evac' of P.O.Ws."

"Walker, this is Captain Gatehouse here," a pompous voice comes in over radio operative's, "what the hell has been going on down there?"

"Situation under control, proceeding to phase 3," the captain whom Walker addresses is an unpleasant man, not only turning his nose up at the Slyth at their first meeting, but at all of them; Gatehouse regarding them as a necessary option, riff-raff all the same.

The captain impatiently insists, "have you had confirmation of our intelligence reports?"

Lee shakes his head, mouthing to Walker, "tell him nothing."

Cutter considers the advanced hallucinatory device that the Slyth has just handed him. Examining it in his hands, turning it over, the leader hands it to Irons.

"Phase 3 about to be commenced sir. I repeat situation under control. Continue with evac'. Level twenty holding bay clear, over," Irons smiles at Walker as he breaks off communications.

The science expert of their group, Irons clicks open part of device, knowing how to open it without releasing more gas or explosive charge protecting inner workings. Tiny gas cylinders are revealed like some antique, with hidden compartments for secrecy. He puts the trap back together, taking out sensors that would trigger more doom laden acid trips, "most interesting."

"What is it?" Dobrovowski asks.

"A trap. It's the most advanced trap I've ever seen, of this kind anyhow," Irons answers, "it caused our group 'trip'. At a guess an auto-timed gas filter triggered off by one or all of our unauthorized presence. But...it doesn't look like U.F technology. They have always been known to dabble in the sciences but if this is their work, then they certainly have come a hell of a long way in four years. I guess they must have finally cracked it. The Slyth must be immune or something."

"Fascinating," Reed comments sarcastically.

"Let's move," Cutter orders, cutting dead Irons science lecture.
*
The night sights have been taken off- a Univarian gift. The group works well together despite there being an alien amongst them. The truth is that they have all become aliens. Beyond the term of mutants. More advanced than they could have dreamed. The more time spins onward, the deeper set the Univarians effect moulds into shape.

They all stop. Forming defensive pattern of cover. Dobrovowski and Chee checks behind. Signally an o. k back to Walker.

A noise scratches.

Cutter motions for Irons and the Slyth to go ahead.

A rat scurries toward them. Thin narrow sheets of cold metal, tin-like rebound the sound of its feet clawing across dark floor. It stops when sensing their presence, all weapons pointed toward it. Wheeler takes his aim off first. Lee studies scanner, casting a glance at the rodent that sniffs into air. Walker points to rat with gun as if questioning the animal through gesture, he aims directly.

Lee grabs his arm, "wait," he rasps animatedly.

Cutter peers into his own scanner. No life form. Questions arise in both men's minds. Another trap. "I don't like this at all," he comments, his men looking to him for the order to fire or back up, "we are being set up here."

"WE ARE BEING SET UP HERE." A mechanical booming baritone voice breaks out from all around them. Some of the group flinch with surprise.

Walker tests the water, "I'm a tea pot, I'm a tea pot, here's my handle, here's my spout."

One and a half seconds later the words are repeated in dull, base, computer parrot fashion, Cutter all the while makes a move to the rat which slowly backs away; all the while seeming to observe him.

He motions Ball to contact the Sheffield as he puts the little vermin in his weapon sights. Breaking from the hub of the group.

"I'm a tea pot, I'm a tea-pot.." he repeats, now some distance from the other men.

The words boom. Shortly they are cut off as Walker blasts energy pulses. The creature runs for all its worth, sensing a summary execution. Moving quicker than his fire, behind a door. Another slams down in an instant behind, separating him from the others.

He opens communications, "Ball contact the Allies and get them to totally evac' A. S. A. P, double time. Reed..get the men out of here. Teleport now. I will go myself when objective Phase 3 is achieved. I'll clear second command with vessel," he breaks off communications with a snap before any of them can deviate or protest. The intelligence report stated that once at the lowest levels it seemed highly probable that the U.F would have installed a basic computer that would start a self-destruct sequence. Walker takes no chances.

He scans through the door. Radiation levels are beginning to break over acceptable volumes. Also, an energy force is projecting itself toward his direction. He checks where his men were, behind other door. They have teleported out.

With speed, he aims gun at wall, blast setting. The door before him opens. Down corridor, rumbling, an energy ball zooms at him. Walker's staser does the trick as a wall falls underneath blast. He dives through hole as ball of fire whooshes past. The fire tries to disappear after him but it loses momentum as he falls into black.