Page 18

VAREK

T he alarms quieted to an urgent, rhythmic pulse that matched the throbbing in my shoulder. I leaned against a tilted support structure, each breath sending fresh fire across my back. The burn wound protested every movement, every shallow breath. Water swirled sluggishly around my thighs, the cold a stark contrast to the heat of my injury.

Rivera—Rivera—stood at the main console, her silver markings casting faint light across her strained features. Her hands braced against the surface, fingers splayed as if she could physically hold the system together through sheer will.

"He's out... for now," she said, not looking up from the fluctuating readings. "Firewall's holding. Stabilization is active, but look at these core readings, ." She gestured to a flickering display of energy signatures. "They're way below optimal. It's fragile, like balancing on a knife edge. Any major system shock, another tremor... it could tip right back into failure."

I pushed away from the support beam, ignoring the protest of torn flesh, and joined her at the console. The readings told a grim story—our victory over Hammond's assault had bought us time, nothing more. The price had been high: my injury, the extensive damage to the control room. All for a temporary reprieve.

The room seemed to mock us, a piece of ceiling material breaking loose and splashing into the water nearby.

Through our newly formed bond, I felt her relief at repelling Hammond's attack, sharp and clear as crystal. But beneath it lurked anxiety, mirroring my own. This fragile stability wouldn't hold. We both knew it.

"We need the amplified signature," I said, stating the obvious. The irony burned worse than my wound—Hammond's twisted experiment had inadvertently created the very thing needed to save us all. The solution to our problem lay in the hands of our enemy.

Rivera nodded, her eyes never leaving the display. "Claire."

The name hung between us, heavy with implication.

A low groan of stressed metal echoed overhead, followed by the steady drip of water into the pool around our legs. The room felt like a living creature, wounded and failing. Another tremor shook the floor, sending ripples across the water's surface and nearly knocking me off balance.

"We need to decide," I said, straightening despite the pain. "Stay or go."

Rivera turned from the console, her face pale in the emergency lighting. "If we stay and the room collapses..."

"Death," I finished simply.

"If we leave and the system fails without us to maintain it..."

"Environmental catastrophe across the region. Possibly worse." I met her gaze steadily. "Staying risks death. Leaving risks planetary collapse."

She pushed away from the console, pacing the small dry area remaining. "There has to be another way... can we reinforce the stabilization remotely? Maybe boost the signal?"

I shook my head, immediately regretting the movement as pain lanced down my spine. "Unlikely. The system requires direct interface with the amplified signature's specific resonance. Remote signals lack the necessary bio-energetic component." The truth settled between us, inescapable. "Hammond holds the key, whether he knows its true purpose or not. Likely Claire."

Rivera stopped pacing, her expression shifting as she processed the implications. "So we have to go to him? To the western compound? Leave this ?" Her hand swept toward the console they'd fought so hard to stabilize.

The question struck at the heart of my conflict. Leaving felt like abandonment, a dereliction of duty. We'd sacrificed blood and energy to achieve even this precarious stability. But staying meant certain death, and death served no purpose.

"It is the only logical path," I said finally. "We cannot fix the system from here. Our efforts bought time, nothing more. The true solution lies with Hammond's captive."

Through our bond, I felt her reluctance give way to grim acceptance. Fear mixed with determination, a potent combination that somehow strengthened my own resolve. This new path would lead us directly into human conflict, into Hammond's territory. The thought sat like cold stone in my stomach, but necessity overrode all other considerations.

Another structural groan, louder than before, echoed through the chamber. A section of ceiling visibly sagged, threatening imminent collapse.

"We need to move," I said, pushing away from the console. "Now."

Rivera nodded, her focus instantly shifting to practical matters. "The emergency exit panel I found earlier—it's our best bet." She pointed across the chamber to a recessed section of wall. "It should lead to maintenance tunnels that bypass the worst of the collapses."

I took a step forward and nearly fell as pain shot through my body. Rivera was at my side instantly, slipping under my arm to support my weight.

"I can walk," I protested.

"Sure you can," she replied, not releasing me. "Just not very well at the moment."

Her small frame proved surprisingly strong as we waded through the rising water toward the panel. Each step sent jolts of agony up my spine, but I forced myself forward. The exit represented our only chance.

At the panel, Rivera pulled out her scanner, running it across the damaged surface. "Panel's fried, but the energy lock seems intact." She guided my hand to a specific point. "Needs a direct lifeline signature pulse, , right... there ."

I placed my palm against the cold metal and channeled energy through my lifelines. Golden light spilled from beneath my skin, flowing into the ancient mechanism. The effort cost me, each pulse of energy intensifying the burn of my wound. Sweat trickled down the back of my neck as I maintained the connection.

With a grinding protest, the panel slid aside, revealing a dark, narrow tunnel beyond.

Rivera looked up at me, her face illuminated by the glow of my lifelines. "Ready?"

I nodded grimly, not trusting myself to speak through the pain. The tunnel represented unknown dangers, but it was our only path forward.

"Lead the way, Rivera," I managed, the use of her name still new on my tongue.

She stepped into the darkness first, the silver markings along her collarbone providing faint illumination. I followed, hunched to accommodate the low ceiling, each movement carefully measured to minimize the agony in my shoulder.

The weight of our decision pressed on me with each step. We were abandoning the control room, the temporary stability we'd fought for. But we were moving toward the true solution, however dangerous the path might be.

As the tunnel closed around us, I found myself grateful for Rivera's presence ahead of me. Her practical mind, her quick adaptability—these qualities had proven invaluable time and again. Where once I'd seen only a reckless human, I now recognized a partner worthy of respect.

The bond between us pulsated with her concern for my injury, her determination to succeed in our mission. I sent back wordless reassurance, though I knew she could feel the truth of my pain. No room for pride now. No room for anything but survival and duty.

The tunnel stretched before us, dark and unknown. But we moved forward together, step by painful step, toward Hammond, toward Claire, toward the only chance of saving both our peoples.