And that terrifies me.
We reach the junction ladder that drops into the lower medical deck. I signal her to wait, then scan the hall. Empty. For now.
“Go,” I whisper.
She descends first, graceful even when she shouldn’t be. I follow, sealing the hatch behind us and dropping the ladder with a soft thud that makes my nerves spike.
The medical wing smells like antiseptic and ozone. Half the lights are dead, the rest flickering at irregular intervals. This deck was decommissioned after a containment breach two cycles ago. Officially sealed.
Unofficially… forgotten.
We move fast.
Mara keeps glancing at her datapad, fingers flying. “Obol just rerouted two patrols toward the shuttle dock,” she murmurs. “They’re buying it.”
“Good.”
“But that means they’re thinning coverage here.”
“Which means whoever’s left is smarter.”
She grimaces. “Fantastic.”
We cut through an equipment bay, squeeze past an overturned diagnostics cart, and slip into a narrow cross-corridor that smells faintly of burned circuitry. I’m about to signal a halt when?—
Footsteps.
Close.
Too close.
I grab Mara by the wrist and pull her against the wall, pressing us into a shadowed recess between two sealed storage lockers. She gasps, but bites it down fast.
A patrol rounds the corner.
One officer.
Human.
Mid-rank by the striping on his collar. Armed. Alert. His scanner hums softly as he walks, casting pale arcs of light across the walls.
My hand slides to my weapon.
Not yet.
He slows.
His scanner chirps.
Once.
Again.
I feel Mara stiffen against me.
The officer frowns, checks his wrist display, then looks up.
Directly at her.
