"Through here," Roone said, leading me into what looked like a collapsed building. The roof had caved in years ago, leaving a skeleton of support beams and twisted metal. We picked our way through the debris, every step calculated to avoid making noise.
On the far side, we emerged into another alley. This one was wider, better lit. More dangerous.
"Mobile patrol comes through in four minutes," Roone said, checking the position of Palaydium's moon. "We need to reach the wall section before then."
"How far?"
"Two hundred meters. Can you run?"
My legs were already shaking with exhaustion, my lungs burning from the thin air. But I nodded anyway.
We ran.
Not a sprint—that would draw attention. A controlled jog that ate up distance while keeping us in the shadows. My breath came in ragged gasps. My side cramped. But I kept moving, kept following Roone's small form as he navigated the maze of Fange City's outer district.
We passed through a section where the buildings were made entirely of stacked shipping containers, their metal walls covered in graffiti and rust. Through a courtyard where a fire burned in a barrel, surrounded by figures who didn't even look up as we passed.
And then, finally, we reached it.
A section of wall that had collapsed years ago, leaving a gap just wide enough to slip through. But between us and that gap was open ground—twenty meters of exposed space with no cover.
"The patrol?" I whispered.
Roone tilted his head, listening. "Two minutes. Maybe less."
"Can we make it?"
"If we're fast." He looked up at me, his large eyes reflecting what little light there was. "And if we're lucky."
I didn't feel lucky. But I didn't have a choice.
"Go," I said.
We sprinted across the open ground. My boots hit the packed dirt with dull thuds that sounded deafening in the quiet. Twenty meters. Fifteen. Ten.
Behind us, I heard voices. Shouts.
They'd seen us.
"Faster!" Roone hissed.
We hit the gap at a dead run. I scraped my shoulder on the jagged metal edge, felt fabric tear and skin split, but I didn't stop. Couldn't stop.
We were through.
Beyond the wall, darkness. The wasteland.
Behind us, the shouts grew louder. I heard boots pounding, getting closer.
"The tunnel," Roone gasped, pointing toward a dark opening in the ground about fifty meters ahead. "Old maintenance access. They won't follow us down there."
We ran. My lungs screamed. My legs threatened to give out. But I kept moving, kept pushing, because stopping meant capture and capture meant death.
The tunnel entrance loomed ahead—a black mouth in the earth, surrounded by twisted metal and broken concrete.
I dove inside just as a blaster shot scorched the ground where I'd been standing a second before.
The tunnel swallowed us in darkness.
