12
The outskirts of the City of Brexit
Military Warehouse Complex
Feros III
4150.11.5 Galactic
It was 0200 hours local time when Siren turned on a portable lamp, training the soft amber beam over the two thirty-meter-high steel doors secured by a padlocked steel crossbar sitting in brackets welded to the doors at the front of the massive weapons warehouse. The portable lamps were designed to emit just enough light to allow them to see their immediate surroundings, hopefully without attracting attention. The salt-tinged mist covered the ground as if they were walking on water. Thankfully the mist also helped to muffle their footsteps.
Nick could still taste the seaweed food ration bar; so could his stomach. It was like he’d swallowed a lump of lead. In the distance he could see two gu
