Chapter 5 - Ayden
The three of us head north, our boots echoing slightly against the composite floor of the corridor.
“I’m telling you—she’s totally into me,” Vlad mutters, ever the master of keeping things light.
“If you say so,” I reply, not even bothering to look at him.
“Who? Melissa?” Oscar cuts in. “Not a chance, man. That woman’s got the emotional range of a neutron star. Honestly, I think Ayden would have a better shot than you.”
“Ayden? Please,” Vlad scoffs. “He’s not into blondes.”
“What the hell makes you think that?”
“Hey, no judgment—honestly, it’s great for the rest of us. We’ve all noticed it. Every time we’re out hunting, you just conveniently ignore the blondes. No offense, though—it leaves more for us.”
I hesitate. The truth is… he’s not wrong. But it’s not what he thinks.
I almost tell him that a blonde has been haunting my thoughts more than I care to admit. But there’s no way I’m opening that door. Not even a crack.
And right on cue, a pair of intense blue eyes flash into my mind—framed by that same dark halo Logan has. I blink hard, trying to chase the image away.
No. No way I’m confessing that the one girl I can’t think about is the very reason I avoid her type.
“Vlad, focus on the actual problem and read us the damn map,” I say, cutting him off and changing the subject.
We reach an airtight door that marks the entrance to the next section.
“Manual override required,” Oscar says. “Each zone is sealed by a double airlock. The release lever is hidden above the center ceiling tile.”
“Well, that’s smart,” I grumble. “And how exactly are regular-sized humans supposed to reach it when it's a good fifty centimeters out of reach?”
“Protocol doesn’t say,” Oscar shrugs. “Sorry guys, I’m still kinda new here. Haven’t been briefed on all the ancient booby-trap doors yet.”
“No worries!” Vlad activates the comms. “Hey, Gorgeous? We’re at the airlock. Any chance you can tell us how to open it?”
“Just like it says—the lever is above the center tile,” Melissa snaps back, clearly annoyed.
“You won’t believe this, but I can read. In every registered language in the galaxy, in fact. The real question is, how do we reach that lever? I mean, I’m tall—and in more ways than one—but even I have my limits.”
Oscar stifles a laugh, nearly choking on it. Melissa doesn’t answer right away.
“Backtrack five or six steps,” she finally says. “Look for a symbol on the wall—two stacked lines, like stairs. Behind it, you’ll find a panel with a step ladder.”
I spot it almost instantly, etched into the wall. I press the symbol, activating a manual release. A small compartment pops open with a foldable step stool inside.
“Well, there’s our golden ticket,” I mutter, yanking it out. “Let’s hang on to this. Something tells me we’re gonna need it again.”
A few minutes later, we’re in the airlock, sealing it behind us. Once we’re sure the pressure’s stable, we move on to open the second door and continue forward.
“Everyone ready?” Vlad asks, already gearing up.
“Let’s go.”
We snap on our masks and unlock the next door—Sector 15.
The corridor beyond is clean, untouched. Five doors line the walls—15A to 15E.
No visible damage. A few people inside, shaken but uninjured.
“Gorgeous, you can bring Sector 15 back online,” Vlad says over comms. “Everything’s intact. No casualties.”
“Copy that,” she replies, efficient as ever.
We repeat the same routine for Sectors 14 through 7. The airlocks did their job. The explosion didn’t breach containment.
Only one serious injury—a guy who split his head open on a corner and is semi-conscious.
“Still with us, Gorgeous?” Vlad checks in.
“Get to the point,” Melissa replies sharply.
“Now, now, what happened to foreplay?”
“Vlad!!”
“Okay, okay—chill. We’ve got a man here with a head wound and not much of a head left, frankly.”
“Is he conscious?”
“Barely. No response to stimulus. Can you send someone to get him to the med bay?”
“Already on it.”
“A woman after my own heart,” Vlad purrs.
No reply. She’s clearly over the flirt-fest.
“You might wanna try dialing back the charm,” I say as we head toward Sector 6.
“Why would I? She’s obviously falling for me.”
“And I keep wondering why I even try to get subtlety through that thick skull of yours.”
“Oh, are you offering to give me flirting lessons? Please. Who’s got the highest hit count in our crew? I mean, even elderly ladies find me irresistible.”
I shake my head, laughing as Vlad unlocks the next airlock.
Oscar leans toward me. “Is he always like this?”
“Oh, trust me—this is only half of what he’s capable of,” I grin, giving Vlad a wink.
Once the seal closes behind us, we pause.
“Under no circumstances do we remove our masks,” I say, serious now. “Quick sweep for survivors, but odds are low. Like the AI said—air’s running out. We’ve got people to save in farther sectors.”
“They’ve still got some oxygen,” Oscar adds. “But yeah, clock’s ticking.”
“Locked and loaded,” Vlad nods.
“Melissa, we’re entering Sector 6 now,” I call through the comm.
“Copy. Be careful.”
We unlock the second door and step into the damage zone.
The corridor is pitch dark, except for the dim emergency glow. Debris everywhere—chunks of composite, shredded panels, cables snaking across the floor.
“Well... this isn’t exactly a walk in the park,” Vlad mutters, sweeping his headlamp across the wreckage.
We move carefully, masks filtering the stale, smoky air.
The first door on the right creaks open—what’s left of it.
The room beyond? A mess. Ceiling panels collapsed. Sparks dancing from exposed wires. Walls scorched black.
“Looks like this room took the brunt of the blast,” I say, scanning with my handheld.
“Yeah, burn marks everywhere,” Vlad confirms, his voice tight.
We press on.
Second door. Bigger room.
Inside—overturned tables, shattered equipment... and eight bodies.
We freeze.
Vlad and I split up, scanners out, checking vitals.
“Dead,” I say.
“Same here,” he replies. “It’s like someone wanted this to look like a bomb went off.”
“Honestly, that might be exactly what it was,” I mutter. “Sabotage or not—same result.”
Oscar’s standing still. Silent. Staring at one of the bodies.
“Oscar?” I ask, gently.
He doesn’t look away. “I knew him... his name was Neal,” he says, voice cracking.
“I’m sorry,” I offer.
“Doesn’t matter now. We’ve still got work to do—people to save. Mourning can wait.” His face is pale but focused. That’s strength. The quiet kind.
Last door.
Same destruction. Four more victims.
“No survivors,” Vlad sighs. “We need to find the backup generator fast and move on to the next zone.”
“We need to be sure the outer walls aren’t compromised first,” Oscar warns. “Restoring pressure without checking could be lethal.”
The inspection takes time—too much time—but it’s necessary.
We scan the walls, every inch, every seam. Three small cracks show up on the readout. Minor, but they could kill us if left alone.
“Let’s move,” Vlad whispers, already unpacking the repair kit.
He sprays the compound into the cracks. It melts, then hardens into place. Solid seal. We triple-check the entire area.
“No more breaches,” he says, exhaling.
“One final pass,” I insist.
“We don’t have time,” he shoots back.
“We make time,” I say, firm. “We screw this up, we lose more people. One last sweep.”
He grumbles, rolls his eyes, but joins in.
No further damage.
“Okay,” Oscar says. “Let’s bring the system back online and hope it holds. Should be a manual control nearby—hallway panel.”
We wade through more debris, searching the blackened walls.
“Here!” Oscar calls.
He pushes against a scorched tile—it shifts, revealing a small lever.
“Of course,” Vlad groans. “A flimsy little lever. Because that’s what you want lying around in an explosion zone.”
“Relax,” Oscar says. “This only works if the AI has shut down due to a critical event. It’s just a hard reboot. Wouldn’t do anything under normal conditions.”
He turns the lever.
Nothing happens at first. We wait. Holding our breath.
Then—Melissa’s voice in our ears: “Sector 6 systems back online. AI is now in control.”
“Oh, Gorgeous, you spoil us,” Vlad answers without missing a beat. “We nailed it.”
“You’re behind schedule. Pick it up.”
“In a hurry to see me again?” he fires back.
I let out a long, tired sigh and head toward the next airlock.
“She’s right. Time to find our people.”
We follow the same drill. Step stool, manual release, careful pressurization. The airlock opens.
We step into Sector 5.
Empty corridor—silent, sterile, unnervingly calm.
“The AI said they were in room 5C,” Vlad reminds me.
“Third one down. But protocol says we check rooms 5A and 5B first,” Oscar points out.
“Yeah, well, protocol can go straight out the nearest airlock,” I snap. “Our friends are in 5C. They might be hurt. You check the other rooms—we’re heading straight to them.”
Oscar stops in his tracks. He’s not used to me raising my voice. I don’t do anger, not like this. But today? I can’t afford my usual calm.
I inhale sharply, trying to keep my voice steady.
“Look—I get it. Procedures matter. But right now? Logan and the others could be dying. Vlad and I are going to room 5C. You handle 5A and 5B. If they’re clear, join us.”
He nods, a little stunned. Then he moves.
We rush to the lab.
The moment the door opens, I know we’re in trouble.
The air is thick—oppressive. My visor flares warnings: elevated CO?, toxic particulates, O? dangerously low.
Everything’s been tossed—tables overturned, med units smashed.
Jason and Xenon are slumped against the far wall. Conscious, barely.
“They were just waking up after the implant update,” Jason wheezes, pointing to the two figures lying on the floor. “Logan and Igor—they were thrown. They haven’t come to.”
I’m already at Logan’s side. Vlad rushes to Igor.
Logan’s arm is bent wrong—definitely broken. Blood streaks down from his temple.
“Logan? Come on, man, nap’s over. Don’t make me do this hero thing alone.”
Nothing.