The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Day Three...

There were five of them in the team that abseiled down the rock face an hour or so before first light on that fateful morning. Amelia knew them all and had worked with them before. The International Electromatics building was arrayed down below them a dark shape that still managed to stand out from the even darker quarry floor.

They were all in their early thirties, fit and highly trained; a team of elite operatives, veterans of the various branches of the British Armed forces. Marcus had picked them himself and had briefed them on the mission. At the moment they were dressed as maintenance workers, their cover story ironclad and the gear they carried was pretty good. The descent was easy, their muscles warming up as they rappelled down the slick dark rock face, the cool morning air nipping at their cheeks.

Mil had her doubts about their disguise, but she had been assured by Marcus that it would hold. She knew the area and had seen the intel satellite photos of the building, and the plans obtained from the planning department of the local council, She had studied the layout until it was burned into her brain. The plant was built up against the quarry face, a monolith of chromed steel and glass that gleamed even in the weak moonlight.

But it was the piles of fresh slate waste that had caught her attention on her first recce mission. “It means they’ve been tunnelling back into the old quarry face.” She had insisted during the debrief, her voice echoing in the safe house. “We need to take a look at that.”

But Marcus had waved her concerns away, his eyes cold and flat. “Irrelevant,” he had said. “Stick to the mission parameters.”

Her protests had fallen on deaf ears, and now, as she reached the bottom of the rope and her boots touched the cold, hard roof, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking into a trap. She knew that in operations like this, every little detail was crucial, but she had been overruled.

They moved swiftly and silently across the roof, their weak shadows stretching out before them like ghosts. The only sound was the occasional sound of roof grit beneath their boots, the faint crunch echoing off the towering slate wall. Amelia’s heart pounded in her chest, her nerves stretched taut as bowstrings.

They approached the access block that jutted up out of the flat roof like an ancient monolith, the air around it feeling charged with anticipation. The Synthetics, the black-skinned guardians of the plant, were nowhere to be seen. The silence was unnerving, a stark contrast to the warm, bustling pub where she had felt almost at home just hours ago.

There were just the five of them: three women and two men—the latter were there as muscle and back-up and it would be up to the women to do the real work.

The team leader, a former Grenadier Guards sergeant named Rob, gestured towards the access door that looked as though they could withstand a tank. “ the plan,” he murmured. “We’re in and out, no heroics.”

The team nodded in unison, their eyes focused and determined. They had trained for this moment, had dreamed of it, had lived it a hundred times over in their minds.

Marcus’s voice crackled in her ear. “You’re clear, Mil. Proceed with caution.”

Amelia took a deep breath and stepped forward, her hand hovering over the electronic lock-pick in her belt pouch. The plan was simple: infiltrate the building, find any evidence of the Hive’s operations, and get out before the drones knew they were there. However she couldn’t shake the feeling that the Hive was always one step ahead.

The lock opened with a soft snick, the sound echoing through the still air. The team slipped inside, their eyes adjusting to the dim light, their breathing the only sound on the staircase that led down into the quiet building. They paused and then began to descend...

The interior of the plant was as clean and sterile as a hospital operating theatre. The walls were lined with gleaming steel s, the floor a grid of non-slip tiles that reflected the weak glow from the overhead night lights. They moved quickly, their boots whispering against the smooth surface.

They encountered no resistance: in fact no signs of life at all, and this was what worried her the most. Where were was security? Where were the synthetics? She peered through the various windows set in the corridor walls but all she could see was silent machinery and empty work benches. It was like the Marie Celeste.

After exchanging a nod with Rod, the team dispersed like shadows into the belly of the beast, each member moving with the precision of a well-oiled machine. They had studied the blueprints and the intel, but the reality was always different. Mil felt the weight of her responsibilities pressing down on her as she moved through the corridors, her eyes flicking from side to side, searching for any hint of danger.

The layout was surprisingly simple, almost too much so. The place seemed to be a grid of corridors and rooms but there was no one to be seen. No night shift... No synthetics on patrol, not according to her electronic snooper, no sensors, active or ive... The quiet was eerie, like walking through a ghost town.

The first part of the mission was to get an idea of the layout and the disposition of any personnel, as well as the detection of electronic countermeasures such as cameras, motion sensors, microphones, and alarms. They were under strict orders to do no damage, to leave no trace of their presence. But Mil knew that sometimes, rules were made to be broken. She had been the only one to set foot inside before, and she suspected that the Hive had its own playbook.

The team spread out through the building with the precision of a well-oiled machine, each member sticking to their designated path. The corridors stretched out before them like veins in a living organism, pulsing with the potential for discovery. They took readings with their handheld devices, the screens flickering with information about the air quality, temperature, and any unusual electromagnetic fields. Mil sketched the corridors on her electronic notepad, her hand moving swiftly and surely, committing every turn and junction to electronic memory.

They converged on the ground floor twenty minutes later, slipping into a room that was marked ‘Tea Room’ on the blueprints. The room was as Mil ed it from a few days before, a stark contrast to the cold steel of the rest of the facility. However it was empty, the table in the centre laden with half-finished cups and plates of food that hadn’t been cleared away. The smell of stale tea hung in the air, a ghostly reminder of the humanity that used this space.

They sat around the table, their eyes scanning the room, looking for anything that could provide a clue as to what was going on. They whispered, not wanting to disturb the quiet yet their voices still bounced back like whispers in a library.

So why’s the room in this state? Mil wondered to herself, her eyes flicking from the half-eaten food to the stale mugs of tea. The disarray was unlike anything she had seen during her reconnaissance. It’s like everyone just... disappeared.

Rod studied her, his expression a blend of concern and curiosity. “Everything okay, Mil?” he whispered. “Only you were frowning.”

Amelia’s eyes darted around the room again, the disarray tugging at her instincts. “We should bug out, this job’s blown,” she hissed, her hand moving to the comms piece in her ear.

In her ear Marcus’s voice was cold and firm. “Negative, Mil. The mission is too critical. We can’t abort.”

Amelia felt the blood drain from her face.

“Why’d y’ think we should abort?” Rod echoed, his voice a harsh whisper. The others looked at her, their expressions a mix of confusion and suspicion. “What gives, Mil?”

Mil realized she had misspoken. Her thoughts had been racing too quickly, her instincts screaming at her to get out, and she had let her guard down for a split second. Shit! He doesn’t know! She thought.

She had to think fast. “Gut feeling. Nothing definite. It’s as if everyone was pulled out especially for our visit.”

But the doubt in their eyes was clear. They were her team, her comrades, and they trusted her instincts. They had all seen things in their military careers that had made them wary of the unexpected. They had survived by knowing when to question orders and when to trust their gut.

She bit her lip harder than she intended, tasting the coppery tang of fear. Marcus was only a civvy, their employer’s puppy-dog, not one of the team. She didn’t owe him anything beyond what the job required. And right now, her instincts were screaming at her that something was wrong, very wrong.

With a swift motion, she pointed to her coms unit and then made a slashing gesture across her throat. The others nodded, understanding immediately. As one, they reached up and switched off their coms devices. The sudden silence was absolute, the only sound the faint tick of the wall clock echoing through the room.

She spoke three words that pulled them up sharp. “It’s too easy!” Was all she said.

Jenny and Karen looked at each other across the table and Collin shrugged. “You always look for difficulties.” He muttered.

“Better ’n ignoring them.” Jenny muttered.

Rod sighed and glanced across at Karen who had a couple of her gadgets out on the table and was frowning at the displays. “Anything?”

“Absolutely nothing, there isn’t a single electronic sausage.” She said quietly.

Collin chuckled. “There you are, there’s no danger, Mil’s imagining things again.”

“You don’t get it do you? I’m not even picking up the room’s lighting circuits or our own computer equipment. God knows what they’re using but it’s blocking my kit.” The former RAF Chief-Technician said quietly.

Rod nodded, his face tightening. He knew that look... Karen was worried and that wasn’t a good sign. He reactivated his coms and spoke quickly into it, his voice a hushed whisper that still seemed to echo around the room.

“Marcus,” he said, “We’re not getting any readings. It’s like the place is electronically damped.”

There was a brief pause, the hiss of static the only sound in her ear before Marcus’s voice crackled back. “Understood, proceed with caution.”

Rod looked up, his face unreadable in the dim light. “Okay,” he murmured, his voice low, “better get ready.”

Amelia, Jenny, and Karen began to strip off their grey coveralls, revealing the sleek black bodysuits they wore beneath. The fabric clung to them, the garments designed for stealth and agility. The suits felt like a second skin, and mimicked the catsuits worn by the Hornets.

Their employers had studied the Hornets, the Hive’s black-clad, protectors, and had mimicked their attire down to the last detail. The headgear came next, a one-piece hood that covered everything but their eyes, nostrils and mouths. With a tug, they each pulled out the transparent visors from their packs, slipping them over their faces, sealing themselves in plastic layer of protection. The visors were a perfect facsimile of the ones she had seen the drones wear; see-through shiny personal computer screens, except theirs were dummies.

Rod looked them over with a critical eye. “Okay, you look the part,” he murmured, his voice low and tight.

But Mil wasn’t so sure. She had been up close to the Hornets, had seen the way they moved, the uncanny way their eyes had tracked her every move. She had noticed the way their carsuits looked almost organic, despite obviously being made of some kind of polymer, and then there was the way their visors never fogged up, not even in the most extreme conditions. These were not just suits, they were almost a part of the Synthetics themselves: an extension of their alien-like technology.

The boots came last, the final piece of their disguise. They were similar in design to the ones worn by the Hornets, but she knew they weren’t the same. These were knock-offs, the sort of thing you’d find on eBay, something made to look right but lacking the precision engineering of the real thing.

“Ready?” Rod’s voice was a whisper in her ear, breaking the tension that had settled over the room.

The women stowed their coveralls and packs in empty worker’s lockers before giving each other’s costumes the once-over and making minor adjustments to eliminate folds or creases. Mil had had to take particular care as, being trans, she had more to conceal than the other women.

Amelia took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the mission pressing down on her. “As ready as we’ll ever be,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt. She glanced at Jen and Karen who were both smaller than the Hornets she had met... She hoped to God that the Hive actually had small ones...

They moved as one, leaving the room behind them, their booted feet striking the spotless floors rhythmically. They moved together, the three of them in step as if on parade. The plant was a maze of corridors and rooms, each of which could be a potential trap waiting to be sprung. The quiet was unnerving, the lack of any sign of life eerie.

They encountered no one, not a soul, not even a hint of the Synthetics that they knew to be employed here. The place was like a ghost town, but she knew better than to let her guard down. The Hive was too clever for that, too prepared. She suspected they were watching, waiting for the right moment to strike. Still it was not long after first light, the normal working day wouldn’t commence for at least three hours... May be that was it... May be that was why it was so quiet...

Her heart pounded in her chest, the sound echoing in her ears as they approached the heart of the building. They had to find somewhere to hide away until work began then they could emerge and blend in.

“,” she murmured to the other women, “we keep our visors down and act like we own the place.”

They approached one of the main work floors, where, according to Gaynor, there usually were Hornets stationed, and Mil’s heart skipped a beat. Should we even trust Gaynor? She thought.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say that you were jumpy,” Rod murmured, his eyes narrowed in concern as he studied her tense posture.

“Aren’t you?” She snapped back, irritated. Her nerves were stretched to the breaking point, but she couldn’t afford to let it show. She knew that they were all counting on her, and she had to be the rock, the one they could rely on. Hell! They were all counting on each other.

They moved quickly, their boots silent on the cold, hard floor. The corridor stretched out before them, a long, straight tunnel that ended in a T-junction. The left a way back to the Tea Room, while the right led deeper into the plant.

It was Colin who found the store room—barely big enough but with two doors, one opening onto the corridor they had just traversed and the other into one of the workshops. It was a stroke of luck, a small space that had been missing from the blueprints, a perfect hiding place for them to wait out the rest of the night.

They slipped inside, the shelves towering above them like silent sentinels, laden with boxes and crates of electronic components. The smell of fresh cardboard and ozone filled the air, a stark contrast to the stale tea that had clung to the empty tea room. The room was cold, the air conditioning whispering around them like a ghostly presence.

Ducking behind the shelving, they arranged themselves in a tight formation, each with a clear view of the corridor. Rod remained by the partly open door, his hand resting on the cool metal handle, ready to pull it shut at a moment’s notice. The tension was palpable, a living entity that seemed to thicken the air and make it harder to breathe.

But despite her better judgment, Mil felt a semblance of relief wash over her. The room was small, but it was a haven, a place where they could regroup and review the plan without fear of discovery—at least, for the moment. She leaned back against the wall, the chilly metal sending a shiver down her spine, but it was a small price to pay for a brief respite from the unyielding anxiety that had gripped her since they had first set foot in the building.

Her mind drifted back to the briefing, Marcus’s stern face as he introduced the anonymous man from the MoD. She had recognized him immediately: Colonel Gerald Carter. His icy stare had sent a shiver down her spine, a reminder of the phoney scandal that had driven her out of the Army and into the world of private security. The irony was not lost on her: he was the reason she was here, in this godforsaken quarry dressed as an alien, or whatever a bloody Hornet actually was. And that was another thing she had learned: black-clad synthetics were known to The Hive as ‘Hornets’. Oh he had briefed them and his voice had been cordial when he had spoken to her but she just couldn’t shake the feeling that he might not have her best interests at heart.

“International Electromatics.” he had begun, his voice a low rumble that seemed to echo around the small room. “They’re doing important government work.“

The words had hung in the air, thick with the scent of secrets and hidden agendas. Mil had felt a knot of tension form in her stomach, ing the last time she had been in the same room as Colonel Carter. That had been the day her life had changed, the day she had been told she was no longer welcome in the Army.

But now he needed her, needed all of them. The mission was critical, he had stressed, and they were the only ones who could pull it off. The irony wasn’t lost on her. She had been kicked out of the service for becoming too close to Sally, Carter’s daughter. Yet now she was operating under the orders of the very man who had cast her aside.

The look in his eyes as he had spoken had been... different. Not hostile, not the cold, dismissive glare she had ed. She had detected something else, something almost like regret, but it had vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

Now, crammed into this tiny store room with the rest of the team, she couldn’t help but wonder what was really going on. The plant itself wasn’t their target, he had said. It was the silver drones they needed data on, particularly their control, communications and organisation. But why? She wondered What is so important about a load of machines? Especially a load of machines who worked for the Government.

The minutes ticked by, each one stretching into an eternity. They had to wait until the early morning shift arrived before they could make their move. The drones, the real stars of this show, would then be out in force and they would be able to mingle.

They had studied what wa jnown of the drones, had seen the footage and the intel. They were sleek, silver, and unnervingly silent. The kind of tech that didn’t scream ‘advanced’, it whispered it like a dark secret shared only among the initiated.

But Mil’s thoughts drifted back to the briefing, to the moment when Colonel Carter had taken her aside, his eyes filled with a desperation that was alien to his usually stoic demeanour. His daughter, Sally, had gone missing, presumed to have ed the Hive. All the documentation was in order, all the signatures neatly in place, but he had known his daughter. Known her better than anyone else. Known that she would never have willingly given up her life, her citizenship, her humanity, without a fight.

He had begged her, not with words, but with his eyes, to find his daughter and extract her if she could. The mission was about the drones, yes, but for him it was personal. And now, as she sat in this claustrophobic space, her heart racing, she couldn’t shake the image of Sally’s face out of her mind. A young, pretty girl with her whole life ahead of her, now lost in this alien world of metal and circuits.

“Do your best, Corporal Perkins,” her former CO had said, “when you return I’ll ease you back into the army; whatever the outcome of your mission.”

The others didn’t know about Sally. They had their own reasons for being here, their own demons to face. But for Mil, it was about more than just completing a recce mission. It was about redemption, about making amends for the choices she had made. And as the minutes stretched into hours, she found herself praying that she would get the chance to do just that.

The first hints of the sun had crept through the tiny windows set high up in the corridor walls, casting long, eerie shadows across the floor. It was almost time. They had to be ready to move at a moment’s notice, to blend in with the early morning shift and make their way to the drone control centre.

As they waited, Mil’s mind raced with scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. What if they were caught? What if Sally had truly embraced this new life? What if...

But she pushed those thoughts aside. They were trained for this. They were a team and had each other’s backs. And she had made a promise.

The sound of distant footsteps grew louder, the rhythmic thump of booted feet on the floor tiles. The team tensed, their eyes fixed on the corridor, waiting for the moment to act.

The silence in their little room was suddenly shattered in a big way by their medic muttering. “Oh shit!”

“What is it, Jen?” Rod demanded.

“My visor,” she hissed, “something’s activated it!”

“What?” Rod snapped. “That’s impossible: they’re dummies.”

Marcus, who had been monitoring, interrupted by asking what she had seen.

“There’s a small red LED blinking in the frame to the left.” The woman stated before adding. “The audio feed’s hissing too.”

“But they’re dummies!” Rod insisted.

“Actually they’re not.” Karen interjected. “they’re facsimiles based on modified mobile phone technology, they were intended to give us localised extra coms and some computing power but we couldn’t get them working in time.”

“Yeh? Well mine’s working now!” Jen snapped. “I’ve got a plan of this part of the building projected on the inside. It’s showing a couple of dots moving along the corridor outside—they’re labelled too.”

The others looked at her in astonishment as she tapped the side of her visor. “They’ve moved past, thankfully. But it’s definitely the layout of this place.”

She watched the red dots slowly recede along the corridor outside before they disappeared from view. The hiss of static was replaced by the steady rhythm of their own breathing.

“Bloody hell!” Rod exclaimed. “What the fuck is going on?”

Amelia felt a cold shiver run down her spine. “We’ve got to move,” she whispered. “They’re going to check the corridors before the shift starts.”

Rod and Collin nodded, each grabbing a box from the shelves behind them. They moved out into the corridor, their booted feet echoing slightly on the floor as they walked with determination towards the control room. The boxes were surprisingly light, filled mainly with some kind of foam packing material, and they hoped this would be enough to fool any casual observers.

The women waited a few moments, letting the men get a head start, then they left the store room too. They moved in the same way Mil had seen the Hornets move, in a coordinated fashion that was almost hypnotic. Jen and Karen had studied the Synthetics’ movements too, and it showed. They were eerily good at mimicking them.

They turned left at the T-junction, heading away from the control room and towards the area where the drones would be coming from. The corridor was lined with more doors, each one a potential hiding place. But they needed somewhere with a view, somewhere they could see without being seen.

Mil’s eyes scanned the walls, looking for any signs of cameras or sensors, but she suspected that if the Hive had them, they would probably be well hidden or possibly microscopic. They had to rely on their instincts, on their training.

They found it eventually, a small recess in the wall that looked like it had been intended for a vending machine. It was just big enough for two of them, and it gave them a clear view of the corridor that led to the drone bay. They settled in, their hearts racing in their chests, their eyes glued to the unexpected read-outs on their visors.

With a casual nod to the others Karen set off on her own and headed down the corridor, she had her own job to do, something involving the placing of bugs in the Hive’s internal coms system. Mil wasn’t sure exactly what the former Air Force woman was up to, but then each of them had her own objectives to concentrate on!

The red LEDs on their visors were all blinking steadily now, like a silent countdown. They wondered what would happen if they became fully operational. The hiss of static was gone, replaced by the faint hum of the machinery that powered the plant. They could feel the building come alive around them, the air charged with anticipation.

The first drone rounded the corner, its silver suit gleaming in the harsh light of the corridor. It moved with a fluid grace that was both mesmerizing and disconcerting. Its eyes, however weren’t cold and unblinking: there was life there—something that surprised Mil.

The other thing that surprised her was the way the creature’s hips swayed and her breasts jiggled as she walked past them... Then it struck her... This wasn’t a bio-machine or a robotized woman in a silver suit, she was naked with silver skin. Oh Christ! She thought. The Hornets can’t be wearing suits either! We’ll stand out like a sore thumb!

Jen’s visor activated first, the projected display lighting up with a series of schematics and data readouts. She hissed as the information flooded her vision. “I’ve got it,” she murmured, her voice tight with excitement. “I’ve got that drone’s ID code.”

Some way away Karen’s visor flickered to life next, her eyes going wide as the same data filled her view. They had been told to expect the unexpected, but this was beyond anything they had prepared for. The visors were now giving them access to the drone’s systems, allowing them to track and monitor their adversaries’ movements.

They watched as more drones began to appear, their numbers growing with each ing moment. The corridor was alive with their silent, deadly efficiency, each one a reminder of the power the Hive wielded.

But amidst the flood of information, Mil’s eyes caught something else: a pattern in the drones’ movements, a subtle dance that spoke of coordination and control. And she knew, with a cold certainty that settled in her gut like a lead weight, that the Hive had to be watching them.

The tension grew as they waited for the signal from Rod and Collin, their hearts pounding in their chests. They were so close, so very close to uncovering the Hive’s secrets. But as they watched the drones march past, she couldn’t shake the feeling that they had walked into a trap. Either that or she was becoming paranoid!

The silence was suddenly shattered by the distant sound of an alarm, a piercing wail that cut through the stillness like a knife. Mil’s heart skipped a beat. “They’ve found us,” she whispered, her eyes flicking to the corridor, expecting to see a flood of black-clad Synthetics moving towards them.

But the drones didn’t react, didn’t stop their relentless march. The alarm grew louder, a deafening cacophony that seemed to fill the very air around them. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, it died away leaving a silence that seemed much deeper than it had before.

And then, from the depths of the plant, they heard a sound that chilled them to the bone: the low, mournful wail of the Hive itself, a sound that seemed to resonate with the very fabric of the building, a sound that grew in intensity until it was all they could hear. It was a cry of anguish and pain, and it was coming closer.

Mil’s hand shot to her throat mic. “Karen?” she hissed into the quiet. “Can you see anything?”

“Affirmative,” Karen’s voice was calm, eerily so, and it took Mil a moment to realize that it was her friend speaking. “I’ve got visuals on the corridor. It’s clear. The drones are moving in patterns, but they’re not heading this way.”

“Roger.” Answered Mil. “Let me have the details.”

Karen’s voice suddenly became a monotone, each word precise and measured as if recounting a technical manual. “The light fittings are standard LEDs, recessed into the ceiling. The floor tiles are a grid pattern of grey and white, each zero point three meters square, with a slight sheen. The silver drones are moving in pairs, their steps in perfect synchronization, their movements almost balletic.”

Rod’s voice cut through Karen’s monotone delivery like a knife through butter, urgent and sharp. “Snap out of it, Karen, for fuck’s sake concentrate!”

Silver drones? Mil thought, her mind racing. “Karen, where are you?” she whispered into her throat mic, breaking the tension.

“I’m... I’m in the drone bay,” Karen responded, her voice still eerily calm. “They’re... they’re beautiful.”

“Where are they coming from?” Mil asked.

“From the building behind this one,” Karen replied, her voice almost wooden.

Mil frowned, her brows knitting together tightly for she knew that there was no building behind the International Electromatics plant.

Karen’s words hung in the air. They had studied the blueprints, they had done their reconnaissance, and there was no mention of any additional structure in the area. And yet, the unmistakable sound of footsteps grew louder, each step echoing through the corridor like a drum beat that grew closer and closer. They could only be emerging from tunnels cut into the quarry face itself.

“Stay put, Karen, I know where you are, we’ll come to you!” Mil hissed into her microphone, her hand tightening around the grip of her concealed sidearm. It’s value in the current situation was less than zero but its presence was comforting.

The drones continued their silent march, seemingly oblivious to the humans’ presence. Mil and Jen watched, their eyes never leaving the corridor. The figures grew more numerous, a silver river of them flowing from the drone bay. Karen had been right... Their movements were balletic.

Marcus’ voice crackled through their earpieces, urgent and tight. “What’s happening?”

“Karen’s... compromised,” Mil reported, her voice tight. “She’s lost it, and she’s talking about a building that isn’t there.”

There was a brief pause, then Marcus spoke again, his voice low and firm. “You need to get to her, now. If she’s compromised, she could lead them right to you.”

The two women nodded, their movements swift and silent. They slipped from their hiding place, their boots soundless on the gleaming floor. They had to reach Karen before it was too late, before the Hive discovered their presence: if it hadn’t already!

The corridor seemed to grow narrower, the walls closing in, the air thick with the scent of something sweet. It was like the plant itself was protesting against their presence, trying to warn them away.

But they couldn’t leave Karen, not now. Not when she was in trouble. You didn’t abandon mates when they were in trouble: that was not the Army way and not her way either even though she was just a civvy these days. You can take the girl out of the army but you can’t take the army of of the girl...!

They rounded the final corner, their hearts in their mouths, and there she was, a diminutive black figure standing in the middle of the drone bay, surrounded by a sea of silver forms, her visor flickering with a kaleidoscope of images and data that she seemed to be drowning in.

Mil took a deep breath, her hand moving to the side of her neck, ready to dump her own visor should it activate. “Karen, it’s Mil,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the din. “We’re coming in.”

The slim woman didn’t move, her eyes fixed on something only she could see. “They’re so beautiful,” she murmured, her voice lost in the chaos. “So... perfect.”

The silver drones shifted slightly, as if sensing the humans’ approach, but they didn’t move to block them. Not yet.

Mil and Jen shared a look, then charged forward, they had to get Karen out before it was too late, if they didn’t, Mil suspected that she could be completely lost to them.

The drones didn’t react as they approached, their attention seemingly fixated on whatever was directly ahead. The two former soldiers weaved through the throng, their eyes scanning for any signs of a threat, any indication of what was happening.

They reached Karen and Mil grabbed her by the arm, pulling her towards the exit. “Come on, let’s go!” she yelled, her voice barely heard over the siren’s wail.

But Karen resisted, her eyes wide and unfocused. “I can’t,” she murmured. “They need me.”

Jen stepped forward, her face a mask of determination, she fished something out of the pouch on her belt and injected Karen with it.

The electronics specialist blinked, as if coming out of a trance. She nodded, her movements jerky and mechanical, and allowed herself to be led away from the drones.

They marched down the corridor in parade ground step; any rapid movements might attract unwelcome attention... the sound of their own breathing loud in their ears. The hum of the surrounding plant was building up to a crescendo as production began.

They paused in a side corridor and Mel looked back... Drones were emerging from archways in the quarry face that the building was up against. The Hive’s presence was obviously far greater than suspected.

Her heart in her throat, Mil grabbed Karen and slammed her, face first, against the cold, hard wall of the corridor, her eyes locked on the unmistakable glint of something behind the smaller woman’s ear. “What the hell is that?” She demanded, her voice low and urgent.

Jen looked over, her eyes widening when she saw the small, metallic object nestled against the side of Karen’s skull. “Is that... a chip?”

Karen winced, her eyes finally focusing on her friends. “What?” she murmured, her voice slurred. “What’s happening?”

Mil ignored her, her mind racing. “It’s gotta be Hive tech,” she hissed. “It’s how they’re controlling her.”

Jen stepped closer, her medic’s instincts kicking in despite the horror of the situation. “Let me see,” she said, gently examining the spot where the device had been pressed against the fabric of Karen’s hood.

The chip was smaller than a penny, its pins ing right through and into the woman’s skin, the other end connected to the visor’s wiring that snaked around and into her earpiece. The sight made Mil’s stomach churn.

“We need to get it out,” Mil said, her voice tight. “It’s how they’re tracking us and controlling her.”

Jen nodded, her expression grim. She pulled out a small med-kit and selected a pair of forceps. “Hold still,” she said to Karen, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands. She looked at the chip again and the pins which vanished through her tight black hood and into her parietal bone.

The medic peered at the chip and at the wires connecting it to Karen’s visor and to her coms ear piece. “Before I try to get it out I need to know what the bloody hell it is and just how it’s connected to her nervous system.”

Mil’s eyes narrowed as she watched Jen’s careful movements. “It’s Hive tech, no doubt about it,” she said. “But how could they have chipped Karen without her knowing?”

“They must have been waiting for us,” Jen murmured, her voice tight. “It’s probably got some kind of local anaesthetic on the pins. She wouldn’t have felt a thing when they pushed it in.”

Jen swapped the forceps for another hypodermic which she used to inject Karen. “That should keep her quiet. We need to stow her somewhere safe then we can go back for her after the mission.”

They had to act fast, the drones were everywhere, and Karen was a ticking time bomb. Mil nodded grimly, her hand tightening around her hidden sidearm. “We’ll find a hiding place, keep her out of the way until we’re done.”

Meanwhile, at the other end of the plant, Rod and Collin had problems of their own,