Page 19

"Security checkpoint ahead," Trent warns, slowing at the junction.

I press my ear to the wall, my enhanced hearing cutting through the alarm noise to pick up voices beyond. "Four guards. Armed with neural disruptors."

Trent nods once. No more pretending we're just maintenance workers now. The moment we ignored the Echo-Seven summons, we became official enemies of Unity.

Feels weirdly liberating, actually.

"Alternate route?" I ask.

Trent checks the schematics on his stolen maintenance tablet. "Ventilation access through section twelve. Tight fit."

"Better than neural disruptors."

We backtrack to a utility closet where Trent pries open a ventilation panel. The shaft beyond is narrow, barely wide enough for shoulders. Definitely not designed for to human passage .

"Ladies first," I quip, already squeezing into the cramped space.

The metal is cold against my palms as I crawl forward on hands and knees. The shaft narrows further, forcing me to wriggle like some kind of maintenance snake. Behind me, Trent's breathing is controlled and steady, even in this claustrophobic nightmare.

"How much farther?" I whisper.

"Junction point in twenty meters. Then straight down to lower access level."

Straight down. Great.

We reach the junction point, a vertical shaft dropping at least thirty meters into darkness. No ladder. No handholds. Just a straight shot down into who knows what.

"Please tell me you have a plan that doesn't involve falling to our deaths," I mutter.

Trent produces a thin cable from his maintenance kit. "Controlled descent."

"That doesn't look strong enough to hold a child, let alone two adults."

"Enhanced tensile strength. Unity developed it for high-stress environmental systems." He secures one end to a support strut inside the shaft. "It'll hold."

I eye the flimsy-looking cable skeptically. "If we die, I'm blaming you in the afterlife."

"Noted. I'll go first."

He wraps the cable around his arm, tests it once, then slides into the vertical shaft. His descent is controlled and efficient, because of course it is. Everything Trent does is perfect, even escaping from the only home we've ever known.

"Clear," his voice echoes up from below. "Your turn."

I take a deep breath and follow his technique, wrapping the cable as he showed me. My heart pounds as I ease over the edge, feet scrabbling for purchase against smooth metal walls .

The descent is terrifying. The shaft seems to stretch forever into darkness, my enhanced vision picking up details I'd rather not see, like the thin layer of grime on the walls and the very, very long drop below.

Halfway down, the cable jerks. A soft groan of metal from above.

The support strut is giving way.

Oh no. Please no.

"Trent—"

"I see it. Accelerate your descent."

I loosen my grip, sliding faster than is probably safe. The cable wobbles as the strut bends further.

"Almost there," Trent calls. "Three more meters."

The strut breaks with a sharp crack. For one heart-stopping moment, I'm in free fall?—

Strong hands catch me around the waist, absorbing the impact. Trent staggers slightly but keeps us both upright as the cable crashes down around us.

"You okay?" he asks, his hands still steadying me.

"Better than the cable." My attempt at humor sounds shaky even to my own ears.

We're standing in a larger maintenance passage now, clearly designed for drone access rather than human workers. Emergency lighting casts long shadows along the curved walls.

"We need to keep moving," Trent says, checking the tablet again. "Security response teams will have calculated potential escape vectors by now."

"Where exactly are we going? You mentioned a sympathizer transport..."

"Access point 12-B. Used for waste extraction, but the sympathizers repurposed it for personnel movement." Trent's eyes meet mine briefly. "It leads outside."

Outside .

The word sends a shiver through me—equal parts terror and excitement. I've never been outside the arcology. Few Sentinels have, except for specialized exterior defense teams.

"What's it like?" I ask before I can stop myself. "Outside. Do you know?"

Something softens in Trent's expression. "Unpredictable. Dangerous." A pause. "Beautiful, in its way."

The answer surprises me. "So you've been outside?"

"Twice. Specialized training missions." He turns, resuming our escape route. "Not many Sentinels get the opportunity."

I file that information away as we move through the passage. Another piece of the puzzle that is Trent Vanguard—elite Sentinel, perfect soldier, and apparently, a man who's seen beyond Unity's walls and found beauty there, of all things.

We navigate through a maze of maintenance tunnels, moving steadily downward.

The air grows colder, damper, with a metallic tang that tickles my enhanced senses.

The deeper we go, the more the arcology's perfect facade crumbles.

Down here, pipes leak and metal corrodes.

Unity's pristine image doesn't extend to places ordinary citizens never see.

"Security sweep coming from section fourteen," I warn, my hearing picking up the rhythmic footsteps of Unity forces.

Trent pulls me into a recessed utility alcove, our bodies pressed together in the confined space. We hold perfectly still as the security team passes just meters away.

His heart beats steady against my palm where it rests on his chest. Mine races like I've run a marathon. I'm not sure if it's the danger or his proximity that's causing it.

Probably both.

Once the security team passes, we continue through the tunnels until reaching a heavy mechanical door with hazard warnings plastered across it.

WASTE EXTRACTION SYSTEM AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY ENVIRONMENTAL HAZAR D

"Charming," I mutter as Trent enters a complex access code into the panel. "You sure know how to show a girl a good time."

"Only the best for you, Thorne."

The door slides open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing a large chamber filled with industrial waste processing equipment.

The noise is overwhelming, with grinding machinery, hissing pressure valves, the constant thrum of motors.

The air carries a sharp chemical smell that makes my enhanced senses recoil.

A low rumble vibrates through the chamber as the extraction system powers up. The tube—at least two meters in diameter—connects to one of the waste disposal channels that lead outside the arcology.

"Not the most dignified exit," Trent admits, "but effective. Security doesn't monitor waste streams for biological signatures. Too much organic material in the system already."

"Where does it lead?" I ask.

"Filtration outpost three kilometers from the arcology perimeter. The extraction tube connects to underwater channels for the final kilometer."

Wait. What?

Underwater?

"You expect us to swim?" The panic in my voice is embarrassingly obvious. “Underwater? For three freaking kilometers?”

"The current does most of the work," he tries to assure me. "Just don't fight it. You know how to hold your breath for five minutes.”

The chamber door suddenly buckles inward—a security breach in progress.

Shit.

Trent grips my shoulders, his eyes intense. "Once we're in the current, stay close to me. If we get separated?— "

"We won't," I interrupt. I've spent three years with this man at my side. I'm not losing him now.

The extraction tube opens with a hydraulic whoosh, revealing a circular passage filled with rushing water. It looks like a nightmare.

"Go now!" Trent shouts as the door finally gives way, security forces pouring into the chamber.

Trent grabs my hand and pulls me toward the tube. We jump together just as neural disruptor blasts hit the wall where we stood seconds before.

The current catches us immediately, cold water enveloping us in its relentless grip. I barely have time to take in a breath before we're sucked deep into the extraction system, the arcology and everything I've ever known vanishing behind us.

Water roars in my ears as we're propelled through the tube at terrifying speed. My enhanced senses struggle to adapt to the overwhelming input—pressure changes, temperature fluctuations, the disorienting tumble as the current throws us through bends and drops.

Trent's hand remains locked with mine, our fingers intertwined in a grip that defies the forces trying to tear us apart. His face is barely visible through the murky water, his eyes remained fixed on mine, steady, certain, keeping me anchored when everything else is chaos.

The tube descends sharply, pressure building in my ears as we go deeper. My lungs burn like hell, my body fighting against the unnatural environment. Just when I think I can't stand it any longer, something changes.

My vision shifts, adapting to the murky darkness. The burning in my lungs eases as my body somehow processes the limited oxygen more efficiently. My skin tingles with an odd sensation, as though responding to the water pressure in ways it shouldn't be able to.

More modifications activating? I don't have time to wonder as the current picks up speed again, hurling us through the final section of the extraction system.

Ahead, I see light, faint but growing stronger. The tube's end.

The pain in my lungs is growing unberable, the world going grey at the edges. I’m not sure how much longer I can hold my breath for, I feel so close to opening my mouth and sucking in water and drowning and…

Trent gives my hand a hard squeeze and points as the light envelopes us.

We burst from the extraction system into open water—actual, natural water, not the carefully processed liquid Unity provides. It's darker, colder, alive with microscopic organisms my enhanced vision can somehow detect.

Trent tugs my hand, pointing upward. We kick toward the surface with whatever we have left of our Sentinel strength, the ascent excruciatingly slow because of the heavy maintenance uniforms dragging us down.