Page 9

B oot heels scraped, faded. The patrol rounded the corner. I counted seconds until shift change—four hours of observation revealed a three-minute window, the only gap in Hammond’s security rotation.

“Now,” I whispered, moving to the loosened wall panel.

Ravik joined me silently, golden eyes reflecting the dim emergency light. He knelt, massive blue hands making quick work of the fasteners. Cold metal met my fingertips, contrasting the heat radiating from him.

He hadn’t meant to touch me, but once he did, he didn’t let go. And the worst part was—I didn’t want him to.

He tapped his wrist, held up five fingers, clenched his fist, extended one. Fifteen minutes. That’s all I had.

I nodded, stomach tight. “Keep watch,” I murmured, gesturing my meaning.

The ventilation shaft was smaller than expected—purely airflow, not maintenance access.

Rust flaked beneath my palms like dried blood.

The chill metal seeped through my clothes despite the adrenaline warming my core.

Every scrape of fabric, every shift of weight, seemed amplified.

Fear of discovery was a physical presence.

The air shifted—stale sweat, metallic machinery, and something older, alien, clinging to the ruins. This place remembered secrets.

My markings tingled, reading the energy flows like braille—a constant, sometimes overwhelming reminder of how the crash changed me.

Energy pulsed through the walls, raw, unstable.

Hammond was tapping the ruins’ power directly, creating dangerous feedback loops.

The engineer in me cringed; the part connected to my markings recoiled at the wrongness.

At the first junction, I paused, closing my eyes.

Ghostly light patterns filled the darkness—energy flows transformed into instinctive knowledge.

Cooler air from the left, smelling of electronics and sweat.

Command center? Soft conversation drifted from a distant grate.

The right passage hummed erratically, reminding me of the lab, of Claire strapped to a table, Hammond trying to force a connection with salvaged artifacts. A shiver traced my spine.

I chose left, sliding forward, cataloging turns in my mental map. Thinking of my old life—clean labs, orderly systems—sent a pang through me.

A faint red glow ahead. Sensor node. Salvaged tech, scanning for heat and movement. My markings sensed its pulse. It swept left, right, paused. Old tech, repurposed from The Seraphyne . A blind spot in the transition... there .

Moving only during the pauses, I inched past, sweat beading on my hairline despite the chill. The corridor beyond opened slightly. Perfect vantage point. Through a grate, I saw a monitoring station, salvaged equipment. Security hub. Jackpot.

Then I saw them. On a side table, near a charging station—a small pile of translator stones, perhaps half a dozen, carelessly grouped together. Small, crystalline, the distinctive blue-green hue. My heart hammered. With these, real communication with Ravik was possible.

Three guards staffed the hub, armed. Rotation every twenty minutes, confirmed by a wall timer. The stones sat unattended—likely confiscated during the initial Nyxari encounters or from prisoners like myself, then set aside. Risky, but worth it. My markings warmed slightly.

The grate wasn’t easily removable, but the hub connected to an adjacent small lab with its own vent access. I backed away, found the junction, squeezed through the narrower passage, shoulders scraping metal.

The lab grate had one corner fastener missing—sloppy maintenance, my advantage. I worked it loose until I could slip through. The room below appeared empty, dimly lit. Equipment covered workbenches: half-assembled tech, diagnostic tools, salvaged components. No active sensors.

I lowered myself silently, landing in a crouch. Markings tingled nervously. The connecting door to the hub stood ajar. Partial view of the guards. The pile of stones remained unattended, but reaching them meant crossing the visible doorway. Timing was critical.

I watched. One guard focused on monitors, one wrote in a log, the third paced. When the pacer reached the far wall and the monitor guard checked a secondary screen, I had maybe six seconds. Not much.

Deep breath. Wait. Now. I moved swiftly across the gap to a cabinet just inside the hub. Unseen. The stones were less than two meters away, but in view of the logging guard.

Distraction. My eyes landed on a climate control panel. Simple system, easily manipulated. Hand near it, not touching, I concentrated. Silver patterns pulsed energy. Click. Whoosh. Cold air blasted from the vents. All three guards looked up.

“What the hell?” the logger complained, standing to check the thermostat.

In that moment, I darted forward, snatched two stones from the pile, retreated. Heart pounding, I clutched the cool crystals. Faint vibrations hummed against my palm, resonating with my markings.

“System’s haywire again,” one guard muttered. “Third time this week.”

“Hammond’s pushing the power grid too hard,” another replied. “Can’t just tap ancient tech and expect it to play nice.”

I slipped back into the lab, moved to the vent access. Getting up was harder, but adrenaline fueled me. I hauled myself up, maneuvered through the opening, replaced the grate. Muscles burned. But the stones were secure, hidden inside my uniform. Just had to get back.

A distant metallic clang froze me. Patrol. Early.

Vibrations through the metal—someone entering the shaft system nearby. A maintenance drone hummed to life, its sensors basic but effective at close range. It followed the airflow—straight toward me.

I retreated silently, but the humming grew louder. Detection meant lockdown. The junction with the sensor node loomed ahead—no cover. The drone’s light cast shadows; its red beam swept closer. Trapped.

My markings reacted to the drone, trying to interface, but I didn’t know how. Silver patterns intensified, drawing energy but finding no outlet.

A sudden crash echoed deeper in the compound. Shouts. The sound reverberated. The drone paused, programming conflicted. Water alarms wailed. “Sector B breach! Water main rupture!”

My markings sensed something else. Ravik. Not physically present, but sensed through our nascent bond. Impressions flickered—a weak signal. Had he caused this? How?

Taking advantage of the drone’s hesitation, I slipped past the junction, moving faster. The drone turned, abandoning its sweep for the urgent disruption. Commotion grew—shouted orders, splashing water, cursing.

I reached our entry point just as boots pounded past. Voices, agitated. “Check all prisoners—could be a distraction!”

Ravik waited by the loose panel, expression inscrutable, tail flicking with tension. Sweat sheened his blue skin. He reached up, massive hand closing around my arm, pulling me through effortlessly. His eyes met mine—something unreadable passed between us.

He replaced the panel seconds before the cell door slammed open. Guards flooded in, uniforms dripping, equipment damaged. “Don’t move,” one barked, weapon trained, while others searched. Finding nothing, they left with suspicious glances and threats.

Only when their footsteps faded did I release my breath, suddenly shaky. Adrenaline crash.

I waited, then reached into my pocket. Ravik watched curiously as I pulled out the translator stones.

His golden eyes widened—immediate recognition.

The silence between us turned thick. Not awkward, just charged—like something had been set in motion and neither of us knew how to stop it.

The stones glowed softly blue-green, intensifying as Ravik reached hesitantly.

His fingers touched one; the glow spread to his lifelines, my markings responding.

I didn’t understand it, but my body reacted like it recognized him—like some part of me had always known.

“You understand me now?” I asked.

He nodded, wonder and wariness mingling in his expression. “I understand. This is an ancient gift of my people.”

The words hit me. His voice—deeper, richer, full of harmonics. Comprehension after days of guesswork felt overwhelming.

The strangest thought struck me.

“You triggered the environmental controls,” I realized aloud. “How?”

Ravik held my gaze before looking away. “I understood the system’s pattern. Resonance points can be... manipulated.”

I stared, reevaluating his capabilities. “You saved me.”

His tail stilled, posture straightening slightly. “We share the same goal. Your capture would complicate escape.”

Purely practical. Yet the brief response in his lifelines suggested more. Our unwanted bond was creating something unexpected.

“We work well together,” I admitted quietly, “when we’re not at odds.”