Christian nodded but kept his eyes forward. “If the Dissent’s using this route, they didn’t choose it for comfort.”
Imara sent her drone—which she’d named Karma—to scan a sealed archway carved into the tunnel wall. “Doors like this could lead to an old control vault. Or an ambush.”
“Can we not think like that?” Hawk scolded.
“Why? You don’t wanna be prepared?”
“I’m just saying.”
“Hush.”
Moments later, Christian halted at a fork. The left descended into black, the stairs steep and narrowing. The right curved into a tunnel just wide enough to accommodate a cart track. He crouched and brushed his fingers across a fresh scuff in the dust.
“Someone’s been through here. Recently.” Rising from his crouch, Christian dusted off his gloved fingers against his thigh. “We take the right. Tread carefully.”
The tunnel sloped gently downward, its curved walls closing in with each step. The metal rails beneath them grew half-submerged in muck, and every so often, Christian caught a faint whiff of sulfur.
Behind him, Hawk muttered something under his breath.
Imara snorted. “What was that?” she asked, her voice hushed but amused.
“I said, places like this remind me how much I took Gallowood House for granite.”
Imara cackled. “It’s ‘granted,’ you idiot. Granite is a stone from Earth.”
Christian’s mouth twitched, but he didn’t turn. He needed their minds sharp, but he also knew the rhythm of familiar bickering helped them more than silence would have.
“Forgive me for trying to make a pun under pressure,” Hawk replied. “Not all of us cope by being loud, sarcastic, and mildly terrifying.”
“Wrong again, sir,” Imara chided. “There is no ‘mild’ about my ability to terrify people.”
“That is true. One look at your face, and my eye starts to burn.”
Athwack, then a yelp from Hawk sounded.
“Children,” Christian interjected, “please stay focused.”
They fell into step again, though Christian could hear the grin in Imara’s breathing. A few minutes later, the tunnel widened into a partial alcove where scrap metal and rusted paneling littered the floor. At first glance, it looked like debris from a collapsed tram stop. Until Christian noticed the footprints—multiple sets. Heavy treads, some fresher than others. He followed them to where a piece of rusted paneling appeared purposefully askew. He crouched, lifting it, and Hawk held it open as Christian and Imara reached inside a hole.
Vacuum-sealed ration packs, a few low-yield explosives, several pieces of Systems-grade tech, and a black box with a blinking green light had all been tucked away.
“Good news, we found their cache,” Christian said.
“Bad news,” Imara said, “we either just hit the jackpot, or we’re about to get jumped.”
Hawk’s gaze moved to the black box, where the green light continued to blink steadily. “What is that thing? You think this is bugged to alert someone we opened it?”
“Maybe,” Christian replied. “Or it’s just a decoy, and no one will come running.”
Imara stood. Her gaze swept the tunnel’s dark edges. “I need Karma to scan all of this and get it logged. Ahna’ll want to look at it all before we pull anything.”
Christian nodded in agreement.
“You think they’ll come back for it?” Hawk asked.
“Oh, they will,” Christian answered. “This cache was left here intentionally. It could be a known dead drop for the Dissent.”
“It’s definitely a drop site,” Imara interjected, tapping at the bracer on her forearm. “No one just wanders down here this far.”
