– Fr –
The black-clad form stalked through one of the many narrow labyrinthine passages, highly alert to his surroundings.
“Sonny! Come in!”
The crackle of static interfering with his earpiece, Sonny Murdoch barely heard the transmission.
“Can just hear you, Franky.”
“The satellites can’t pierce the darkness. Your sonar bringing up anything?”
A ripple of sound pushed out from him as he ran fingers along the smooth rock around him. He stood still, letting the returning waves of sound wash over him. Born blind, he had had the good fortune of an inventor father. The device had given his son some sense of the world around him, in the absence of other stimuli.
“Nothing yet. The Plunderers know how to hide their goods, and themselves, well.”
A huff crackled through the earpiece. “Ain’t that the truth. All the Academy’s intel says that there’s a trove down there.”
“The thieving sods were smart enough to have only one clearing on the whole planet, where they could land their vessels and hide their ill-gotten gains.”
“Stay on your toes, Sonny. They don’t show mercy.”
“That’s good. Neither do I.”
A returning wave of sound indicated a figure was approaching him from behind.