"If you want to know what it's like inside a bilebomb, here it is: the thump of its decompression feels like a kick to your guts, right to your bones and innards, and the clumps of stuff that settle over you just look evil, like they were made to kill you … which is pretty much true. Other details would include the warning whine of my heavy armor's gauge as it dived from two hundred towards one, and the leg of the forward turret crumpling so it toppled onto its side, still twitching as it pathetically tried to acquire a target. The other turret whined uselessly on its perch behind me, atop the turret factory.

I got my feet under me and stood up, pointing my shotgun at the top of the ladder, inching forward for a shot down into the vault. The theory was that anything that wanted me was going to have to get past the turrets and come up the ladder, where my shotgun would either end it fast, or knock them back down. No one seemed to plan on the Kharaa getting three hives up, and a brute of a Fade deciding to lob its little death cocktails up at me. The vault had only one entrance, making it a good place to defend, but a bad place to be trapped. My perch was on a shelf along the back of the room that had had some furniture and a couple of terminals. We cleared them away and set up a small base.

The Mercantile League took its valuables seriously. The vault was filled with smooth self-pressurized containers, each a safe in its own right. The gridlock had scrambled a few, popping them open, but most were intact, looking like oversized coffins against the cream-colored floor below. There was no sign of the Fade. Then a whisper of light and movement behind me, and the Fade was right there. Even in my heavy armor it towered over me. It slashed with one arm – a clang, and the last turret's feet tore free. The second blade followed a split second later, ripping it down and smashing it into the wall.

I hit it from ten feet away with my shotgun – I know I hurt it, bits of its wiry skin blew back away from it like dust. It whipped around to face me and the organic gun on its right shoulder unpuckered its lips. I jumped. I could hear acid rockets firing overhead. My armor took more damage from the twenty foot drop, but I figured it was the better alternative. I stayed crouched, pointing my shotgun at the top of the ladder.

I heard the base being destroyed. The dish from our observatory rolled off the edge and cracked on the ground like a dinner plate, not ten feet from me. So much for our second base. I got the hell out of there while I could."