"The Obsidian Protocol." Webb shuts down the display. "An organization that exists in the spaces between governments and corporations. They wanted the research. They hired the kill team. And they recruited me to provide the information that made it possible."
"Why?" I step closer, every muscle coiled tight. "Why would you help them?"
"Because they offered me something I couldn't refuse." Webb's voice stays level, but something flickers in his eyes. Fear, maybe. Or regret. "Asylum. Protection. A way out of a situation that was already spiraling beyond my control. I made a choice. It was the wrong one. But I made it."
"You murdered my squad." Astra's voice shakes with barely contained fury. "You destroyed their lives. Their families. Everything they were. And you call it a choice?"
"I call it survival." Webb turns to face her fully. "And if you want to kill me for it, I understand. But kill me after I give you what you came for. The truth about what's on the other side of that spatial tear. The truth about what the Obsidian Protocol is really after. The truth about why Malachar disappeared."
"You're lying." Astra's hand is on her weapon now, fingers white-knuckled on the grip. "You'll say anything to stay alive."
"Yes." Webb's smile is grim. "But consider: if I wanted you dead, why am I talking instead of fighting? My guards have had clear shots on both of you since you walked through that door. If this was an ambush, you'd already be bleeding."
He's right. I hate that he's right, but he is. This is something else. An offer. A negotiation.
"What do you want?" I ask.
"Asylum." Webb's voice is steady. "Protection from the people I betrayed to get here. Information for safety. That's the deal."
"No deal." Astra moves before I can stop her, weapon drawn, firing as she crosses the distance between them.
Webb throws himself sideways, and the shot goes wide. His guards open fire, and the laboratory erupts into chaos.
I'm moving on instinct, weapon up, returning fire as I track Astra's position. She's fast, faster than she should be, her body remembering combat training even as her mind screams for blood. She's on Webb in seconds, weapon pressed to his throat, her finger on the trigger.
"Astra, don't!" I shout over the weapons fire, but she's not listening.
"You killed them," she says, and her voice is empty of everything but rage. "You killed them all."
"Yes." Webb doesn't struggle. "So do it. Pull the trigger. But know that if you do, you'll never learn the truth about what really happened that day."
Her finger tightens on the trigger.
And the world explodes.
Not weapons fire. Something else. A concussive blast that lifts me off my feet and slams me into the wall hard enough to crack my ribs. The laboratory lights strobe, emergency klaxons shrieking, and I see Webb on the floor, his hand on a panel I didn't notice before.
Self-destruct. The bastard triggered a self-destruct.
"Astra!" I'm on my feet, scanning the smoke and chaos for her. "Astra!"
I find her ten feet away, crumpled against a workstation. Blood spreads across her side, dark and wet. One of the guards got her. A lucky shot in the chaos, or maybe not luck at all.
The guards are down. Webb is gone, vanished into the smoke. And the facility is tearing itself apart, bulkheads groaning, atmosphere venting through cracks in the hull.
I grab the nearest data terminal and jack in, my fingers flying over the interface. Five seconds. That's all I have before the whole system crashes. I pull everything I can, dumping files into local storage without even checking what they are.
Then I'm at Astra's side, hauling her up, her weight nearly nothing in my arms.
"Dexter?" Her voice is weak, confused.
"I've got you." I move toward the exit, her blood hot against my hands. "Stay with me. Astra, stay with me."
The corridors are a nightmare of failing systems and collapsing infrastructure. I run through passages that are disintegrating behind me, Astra's weight solid and real inmy arms, her breathing shallow and rapid against my chest.
"Dexter?" She's trying to focus on my face, her eyes glassy with pain and shock.
"I'm here." I take a corner too fast, nearly losing my footing as the deck buckles beneath me. "I'm not leaving you."
