Rugged rockface above and below Sam and Stan spanned into the darkness, wrapping around them silently as they climbed down into the ravine. Not using flashlights or equipment that may give them away made their descent more challenging than packing up and moving out at sunset without using any kind of light to guide them. Never mind, doing so had nearly gotten them caught by a roaming patrol. They could only hope that there were no other patrols or perhaps fewer than there should be.

Reaching the bottom of the cliff, Sam crouched, looking around. Stan landed in the sand a few feet from her dusting off his hands.

"Get down," she whispered, "no sense getting caught."

"How can anyone see us in this inky darkness?" Stan whispered, crouching next to her, "we can barely see ourselves."

"Night vision," Sam said, "assume they have it. It'll keep you alive."

"What exactly did you do in your career?" Stan asked, frowning, "you have all these classified and top secret things, and you behave like you're one of those special ops guys."

Sam didn't answer; instead, she moved along the ravine in a crouch until they were covered by the trees and undergrowth growing alongside it.

"What are we..." Stan was cut off by a hand landing on his shoulder and another over his mouth. The distant sound of an engine came to their ears as Sam pulled him further into the cover provided. The engine slowed and idled ... they waited.

"The perimeter alarm went off in this quadrant," a man's voice said, "but I see nothing."

"Use night vision," another voice said, "whatever or whoever it is, maybe wearing something dark."

Sam slapped Stan's shoulder in a silent I-told-you-so gesture before pulling him deeper into the foliage extending down the bank and sinking low to the ground. They waited, barely breathing. The crunch of feet on sand sounded like gunshots in the deafening silence. Sam watched as they stopped not far from where they hid. Sam sank lower to the sandy ground as she waited to see if they were spotted.

"Nope," the first voice spoke again, "I don't see anything."

"It was probably an animal," the second voice spoke, "it is the middle of nowhere, and there are a lot of animals. Let's head back. It's nearly time for our break."

"Right now, I'd do anything for a cup of coffee and not wearing this gear all the time," the first voice said, "no idea what they think they're trying to achieve with all these shifts. The men are already tired, and the guards on the residents haven't had downtime in months."

"We get paid to do a job," the first voice said, "we do the job ... we get paid."

"Fair enough," the first voice said, "let's drive."

The engine revved, and the vehicle moved away. Slowly Sam rose from their cover, moving to the ravine's edge, watching the retreating jeep.

"That was odd, they had night vision, and they didn't even see us," she whispered.

"Maybe we were fortunate or well hidden," Stan said, dusting the sand from the front of his jacket.

"Not possible," Sam whispered, "the one searching was standing a few feet away. He must have seen us."

"I wonder why he didn't say anything? Maybe he saw us and decided to leave us be," Stan said, "do you think this is a trap."

"Could be," Sam whispered, "you heard what they said, more security on shifts ... they have gear like night vision goggles, but they don't see the two of us. Something is off."

"Are we still doing this?" Stan asked.

"We are here and in the middle of it," Sam whispered, "what do you think?"

"I'm there with you," Stan nodded, "let's get this done. Where did they go?"

"That direction," Sam whispered, pointing, "they went that way; we move in that direction," she whispered. "We use the ravine as cover until we get close enough to our point of entry."

Sam nodded, patting her shoulder so that they could move out. The pair made good time in the dark with little resistance or detection. Rounding the corner of the ravine, Sam stopped, crouching quickly against the bank.

"What is it?" Stan whispered, looking in the direction Sam faced.

"The ravine has ended," she whispered, "looks like that could be the unseen road on the map."

"The map shows the ravine continuing to the other side," Stan whispered, "near the mountains. Do the Tenderhooks own this much of the land?"

"We don't know," Sam whispered, "they may, or they own someone who does and is being railroaded into allowing them the use of the land."

"The more I learn about these people, the less I like them," Stand muttered, "what now?"

"Somewhere around here is the storage hut," Sam whispered, "we need to find it and get inside."

"If I remember correctly ..." Stan moved a few feet in front of Sam, "it should be ..."

Sam joined him where he had stopped viewing the shed over his shoulder, "Right there."

"Yep," Stan whispered, "let's get close enough to find a way to get beyond this point."

Silently the pair moved toward the structure nearing it as the door opened.

"Cover," Sam hissed, ducking behind a rock while Stan dove behind shrubs.

"Who is there?" the man called, stopping and looking around, "I heard you."

Pulling his gun, he waited. The sound of the round entering the chamber echoed in the area. Sam watched him move toward Stan's hiding place. The light of a small flashlight penetrated where Stan crouched.

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"What are you doing here?" the man asked, aiming at Stan.

"I'm on a night hike," Stan said, "got lost in the dark."

"Don't you have maps and lights?" the man asked.

"Yep, but the batteries ran out," Stan said, improvising as he pushed to his feet, "I was hoping to take cover in that shed until daylight but didn't think anyone lived in it. Apologies for the intrusion."

"This is private property," the man said, "you shouldn't be anywhere near this valley."

"Private property? I must be more off course than I realised," Stan sighed, propping his hands on his hips, "do you perhaps have batteries I can put in my torch. I'll be off if I can find the way I'm supposed to go."

"Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way," the man said, "I need to take you to my bosses."

"The shed is where your bosses live?" Stan asked, feigning amazement.

"No, but we can get to them through the shed," the man said, "now move."

"Guess they take trespassing seriously," Stan muttered as he moved past Sam's hiding place. Closing her eyes and breathed in deeply before kicking out from her hiding place, surprising the guard. Quickly coming to her feet, she blocked the descent of the gun while kicking into the knee, bringing him to her level. Wrapping her arm around his throat, holding it in a tight lock pulling up. The man flayed, trying to reach her and tugging on her unmoving arm. Finally, he sagged, and Sam let go watching him sink to his knees before meeting the ground with a hard thud. Pulling zip ties from her backpack, Sam tied his hands behind his back and pulled him into her hiding. Taking his security badge and keys, she pulled her pack onto her shoulder and turned to find Stan staring at her.

"What?" she asked, breathing heavily.

"You didn't even break a sweat," Stan murmured, shaking his head, "who are you?"

"If I told you," she whispered, kneeling to go through the guard's pockets, "I'd have to kill you. What is this?"

Stan scooped up the small flashlight shining it over her shoulder, "Looks like a map of the compound."

"He must be new," Sam whispered.

"How big is this place that a guard needs a map to find out where they are or going?" Stan muttered, pointing over Sam's shoulder, "Cherry's parent's location."

"Nice," Sam nodded, "let's get in there and get them out."

Moving toward the shed, Sam paused, taking in the structure. Wooden on the outside, but the Tenderhooks wouldn't leave it unguarded or without security. A small wooden box near the door drew her attention. Moving toward it, she felt around it, finding a flap. Lifting it, she placed the guard's security badge against it, smiling as the door unlatched, jumping away from the frame. Stan grasped the slight protrusion and pulled. The door came out with a slight suction sound.

"Vacuum sealed," Sam whispered as they moved inside.

"Looks like a storage shed," Stan whispered, looking around, "but why are there so many security cameras?"

Sam ducked to the side as one swung in their direction, pulling Stan behind the stack of crates, "Too many security cameras."

"What are they guarding in here?" Stan asked, looking around.

Sam frowned, "Xemas preciosas," she whispered, pointing at a nearby crate, "they all have the same words on them."

"What is Xemas preciosas?" Stan asked, "is that a made-up language?"

Sam smiled. "No, it's Galacian."

"Is that a language?" Stan asked, frowning.

"It is," Sam grinned, "Cherry studied ancient languages. I had to because she would start talking in one of them randomly, and I never knew what she was saying."

"That must have been fun," Stan said, grinning, "what does it mean?"

"Precious gems," Sam said, "guess that would mean a lot of security was needed."

"Not all of them have that word on them," Stan pointed toward a far corner, "what is that?"

"Munición. That's ammuniction," Sam whispered, "and that ..." she pointed to the opposite corner, "oh my word ..." she whispered, swallowing hard, "As mostras xenéticas da unidade crióxena non se manipulan."

"Sam, you've gone pale," Stan whispered, "I'm guessing it's not good. What does it mean?"

"Genetic samples ... cryogen unit ... do not tamper," Sam whispered, "the rumours are true."

"Genetic samples?" Stan asked, frowning, "you mean like harvest eggs and sperm ... right?"

Sam shook her head, "Genetic samples are a way of saying the material there is genetically engineered or changed in some way."

"That's..." Stan shook his head, "people don't do that kind of thing."

"The Tenderhook brothers do," Sam said, "that would explain it."

"Explain what?" Stan asked.

"A hunch I got," Sam said, looking at the security cameras and around the room, "follow me closely. I think I can get us out without detection."

Stan stared at her for a moment before nodding. Sam moved ahead of him, leading him through the maze of crates until they reached the other side of the room, where another door stood. It was unobtrusive and almost unnoticeable. Stan didn't see anything resembling a handle. Sam moved toward the door, standing on a small node protruding from the ground. The door was unlatched as the first one had, and they moved through quickly as it closed behind them.

"I would never have seen that," Stan whispered, following Sam into a cubicle-sized room.

Two security guards sat staring at monitors mumbling about the glitchy software and strange things happening of late. Sam stood behind them, breathing in and suddenly knocking their heads together. The men sagged forward on the table. Taking one of their security badges, she clipped the one they used in its place and left the room.

"Which way now?" Sam asked, glancing over her shoulder as Stan read the stolen map.

"Straight ahead and to the left," he whispered, "watch out for the security camera's on every corner."

Sam moved quickly, leading the way toward what looked like a living area.

"Duck," she whispered as a security camera panned over them, "move," she stood, moving quickly out of its view as it panned back.

Stan moved with her; it reminded him of training exercises for the field. Sam paused, leaning against a wall as two security guards walked past them. Looking down at the map Stan held, she looked around, pointing in the direction they needed to go. Stan followed. Grasping her shoulder and holding her back as another pair of security guards appeared, heading away from them. Their inane chatter told the intruders had gone unseen. Nodding her thanks, Sam moved forward, Stan following in her wake.

Scanning the guard's card at an unmarked door, Sam and Stan moved into an ample space. A sleeping, sitting, and eating area could be seen. The only doorway in the room displayed a bathroom. A couple sat on the couches, murmuring. The man looked around as Sam appeared, followed by Stan.

"Who are you?" the man asked, frowning.

Sam put her fingers to her lips as she moved toward the camera above the door, disconnecting the camera.

"Mr and Mrs Bassett, you probably don't remember me ..." Sam said, smiling, "I'm Sam ... Cherry's friend."

"I remember you," Mrs Bassett smiled, "it's good to see you. What are you doing here?"

"Getting you out of prison," Stan said, "I'm Stan ... Charles' friend."

"What do you mean prison?" Mr Bassett asked, "we're under protective custody."

"Of whom?" Sam asked, "there is no record in any law enforcement or intelligence database. The Tenderhook brothers own this land and complex. You've been prisoners for the last five years."

"Why would they do that?" Mr Basset asked, rising from the couch.

"Because Cherry is alive," Stan said, "she was told you two died in the car crash five years ago."

Mrs Bassett gasped, "Why would anyone do something like that? We were told the reverse."

"I'm not sure," Sam said, "but we need to get you out. Now."

"I'm not sure how you will manage that," Mr Bassett said, "we are heavily guarded."

"Let us worry about that," Sam said, "can you come now?"

"Yes," Mrs Bassett nodded, rising from the couch, "lead the way ... I want to see my daughter and I want to see my cabin."

"Great," Stan said, "follow us."