No one shouted, and no alarms went off. Cold, processed air swept over her, smelling mildly of metal and too-clean water. She strode ahead, mimicking the brisk, bored walk of everyone else.
A massive sign curved overhead. Letters layered in languages she didn’t know. Only English and ancient Greek were recognizable. The English announcement read:ALL TRANSPORTS MUST REPORT TO THEIR EXIT POINTS AT LEAST FIFTEEN MINUTES BEFORE DEPARTURE.
English sat there like an afterthought, smaller than the others. Useful, maybe, but not important. The Greek below it was older. Mycenaean. Her father’s voice muttered the translation in the back of her mind. Her insides wrenched. Even here, in some impossible underground station, the past scratched at her.
She tipped her head back to see the top of the sign.
She couldn’t.
The space soared up: a hollow cylinder ringed with doorways stacked level upon level into darkness. Glass bridges stitched the levels together. Some were crowded with travelers, others patrolled by pale-uniformed guards with mirrored visors. Shops lined an inner street, their doors sliding open and shut.
This was a Silo. Underground. Circular. Windowless.
Mihail’s fingers squeezed on her arm, dragging her along. Her eyes caught on everything. A woman in a long cloak hurried through the crowd, and a cluster of travelers with mirrored glasses hiding half their faces stood off to the side. Some looked like people she might pass on any city sidewalk. Some…definitely didn’t.
She was still in Alex’s sweatshirt and her grimy leather jacket—they felt pitiful. Wrong decade. Wrong world. She wanted the thin mattress in her prison cell. The predictable misery of concrete and metal. At least there, the rules of reality didn’t break.
Announcements boomed overhead, distorted and cold. She caught the ancient Greek again:THE NEXT EMBARKMENT WILL BE OUT OF SILO TWELVE. PLEASE PROCEED TO YOUR EXIT POINT.The rest merged into a litany of names she’d never heard.
Where did a Silo take people? How many were hidden under the skin of Earth? She imagined a whole web running beneath cities, mountains, and oceans. A network so deep and sprawling, most would never guess it existed. What else moved through these routes, invisible beneath everyday life?
I don’t want to go.The thought was childish, but she couldn’t stop it.
Alex. Would she ever see him again? He’d lied to her, yes, but he was still her oldest friend. He still felt like home.
She wrapped her arms around herself, as if she could hold the pieces in.
Mihail guided them through the main chamber into another hall—this one broader, more industrial. The polished vestibule gave way to exposed beams, stacked crates, and scuffed floors. Overhead, thick conduit pipes ran in ribs across the ceiling, humming faintly. Yellow hazard lines broke the floor into lanes, indicating they were in a cargo area.
With fake IDs, of course, they weren’t traveling in style.
Workers threaded among the crates, some pushing floating pallets, others arguing over manifests. When their eyes paused on Mihail and Nikos, tension ran through the space—a minuscule stiffening of shoulders, subtle double-takes. No one intervened.
Instead of sleek watches, these workers wore rectangular instruments clipped to their wrists, wraparound glasses with projection displays, and illuminated bands snapped to their belts. These gadgets emitted a pale light—tracking or communication tools, she guessed. Workers with tablet-sized touchscreens used them to manage inventories or place orders. This place wasn’t for tourists.
Audrey watched one crew load crates through an open door at the far end of the hall, balanced on a narrow ramp that led to yet another corridor. Her nerves felt raw. Every new sight rubbed on them. Her throat squeezed around a sob she refused.
She looked at Emerson.
He stood straight despite the poison. Shoulders squared, expression carved from stone. The sight of him—still solid, still refusing to fold—steadied her more than she wanted to admit.
They stopped at a massive steel door. Mihail rapped his knuckles three times in a pattern that sounded practiced. A slit scraped open. A pair of dark eyes scanned them, then shut again. Locks clanked. The door groaned, then swung inward.
The area beyond was cramped with stacks of containers pressed up against the outer walls, each stamped with the same raven symbol she’d seen on the Marked Notices in Emerson’s files. The air was warm, wet with chemical tang. Sweat prickled under her collar.
Earth already felt unbelievably far away.
Nikos and Mihail moved toward the glass, speaking low with the techs. Audrey turned toward Emerson.
“What is this?” she whispered.
“A bridge,” Emerson said quietly. “To another Silo. Not all routes go directly from planet to planet. Aggregate systems layer checkpoints to monitor everything. Their entire purpose is to control movement and maintain order at any cost. The Separatists are smart, though. They know how to get around the Aggregate.” He glanced at the door ahead. “We’ll catch a ship to Nepra after the checkpoint.”
Her mouth went dry at the prospect of landing on the Voírían people’s home moon.
“Is this…” She hated the word but couldn’t find a better one. “Teleportation?”
He nodded, chin dipping toward the crates. “Cargo Silo, though. Not meant for people.”
