Chapter Twenty #2
Ahna did, to which Mira answered, “You need a sealed breather mask with a HUD that shows your oxygen level. Some sort of suit resistant to heat, chemical burn, and corrosion. We usually wear the outfits the refinery workers had. Make sure you’re wearing slip-resistant boots, and you definitely want gloves coated with a protective layer.
Oh, and probably some sort of stim for exposure recovery. Just in case.” Mira’s grin was smug.
So that was the catch. Mira didn’t think they’d even bother to go, given the dangerous nature of the mission.
But if Ahna was worried, she didn’t show it. “And you’re sure Nadine will come?”
“If the relay comes from me, yeah, she’ll come sniffing. She always does.”
“Very well. You will draw us a map of every structural access point in that area—”
“I should mention,” Mira interrupted, “Nadine will know something’s up if I don’t wear the same outfit I usually do. So, one of you might want to go get it for me. Unless you trust me to get it and come back.”
“Yeah, you’re not going anywhere. So, in addition to the structural access points, you will also draw a map to where you’ve hidden your equipment. Someone on solar shift can go recover it for you.”
Mira sat back in her seat, unimpressed.
“Wait, we’re actually doing this?” Imara snapped. “You guys don’t understand. If we walk in there without that level of protection, we aren’t walking back out.”
Claude waved her off. “It’s fine. The basaltweave spacesuits do the same thing. And they already have the gloves and specialized boots. I wouldn’t worry about exposure.”
Mira didn’t speak again as Yosef checked her cuffs, ensuring she was fully secured to the chair.
“We move when her gear arrives,” Philip instructed. “Until then, prep for full hazmat infiltration. I want visuals, entry points, and two failsafe exit routes by sunup.”
“Understood,” Claude answered, already flicking through screens on his electropad.
“Keep her contained,” Philip added. “And I want her monitored at all times. If she so much as sneezes wrong, I want to know.”
Silence pooled in the interrogation room as Ahna moved toward the door, leaving Yosef standing against the wall with his arms crossed, his eyes trained on Mira.
More orders passed hands like static, sharp and fast. Everyone had a role, a timeline. But Christian stayed still because beneath the fury coiled tight in his gut, there was something he hadn’t let himself feel in days. Maybe even months.
Hope.
They had a lead, a real one. If they could pull this off, Nadine would be caught. And once they had Nadine and she was in prison . . .
His heart kicked harder. Christian didn’t trust Mira or this plan, but for the first time in weeks, the path wasn’t a dead end.
Maybe—just maybe—it was a way back to Gemma.
The entrance to Sector 6 was nearly invisible beneath the warped overhang of collapsed scaffolding and slag.
They approached it cautiously, dressed in their basaltweave suits, their boots muffled by decades of sediment.
A jagged tear in the stone wall exposed what remained of the tunnel’s old access hatch.
It was just wide enough for a person to slip through sideways.
Mira stepped through the breach first. Her silhouette was swallowed by the dark. The rest of them followed single file.
Inside, the heat struck like breath from a dying furnace.
The smelting tunnels hadn’t seen use in over a decade.
But the walls still sweated with poison and were coated in streaks of blackened metal.
Their once-functioning panels were blistered and curled by years of runoff.
Even through his helmet, the air tasted thick and sour, and Christian’s nose burned with the chemical tang of decay and rust.
As they went deeper into the belly of the tunnel, charred struts bent inward like broken ribs, and old runoff tanks hunched nearby, their pipes corroded and hissing faintly. A rusted cart lay overturned, eaten halfway through by whatever chemical slurry had run through here.
Christian’s eyes flicked upward as the tunnel widened into a vast, domed chamber. Cracked scaffolding looped along the rim, and in the center stood a raised metal platform. The Dissent had been using this place near the runoff tanks for a long time, it appeared.
“The beacon’s in a lock box on that platform,” she said, adjusting the duffel on her shoulder and marching toward the platform without hesitation.
“Understood,” Ahna replied. She motioned to Imara, who tapped on the bracer worn around her wrist. Karma zipped into motion, darting silently across the upper rafters to follow Mira, its exterior fabricated to withstand corrosion and heat.
“Into positions,” Ahna continued. “Christian, northeast catwalk. Find a sniper perch. Yosef, upper right scaffold. I’ll move left.
Hawk, go right. Imara, find cover and keep eyes on Mira at all times.
Claude, set up the perimeter and hold. And remember, pay attention to your suits.
Don’t touch anything you don’t need to. Vest lights off when you get into place.
And for stars’ sake, if your HUD warns you’re low on oxygen, get the fuck out of here. ”
“Yes, ma’am,” they replied in chorus.
The climb to the sniper perch was slow and deliberate.
Christian kept his body tight against the gnarled scaffolding pipes, steadying himself against the railings and counting every footfall as he ascended.
A slip from this height would hurt like hell.
It was again ironic how much his hunts had prepared him for moments like this.
“Not that I’ll ever be thankful,” he mumbled under his breath.
Carefully, he worked his way higher until he, at last, reached the top. Sweat slicked his back beneath his basaltweave spacesuit—the same one he’d worn on the surface of Reva not so long ago. He shook away a droplet before it reached his eye.
Tapping the side of his helmet, Christian pulled up the HUD display. Every surface of this place shimmered with warning overlays. Corrosive zones. Compromised beams. He was one step away from a fall to his death.
Brilliant.
The scaffolding twisted upward to loop around the chamber, and carefully he crept along the catwalk until he spied a section of rusted piping that would give him the clearest line of sight.
He slotted his rifle into place, tapped the ultralight on his vest, slipping into darkness, and scanned through his scope. None of his teammates could be seen.
Good.
Mira had retrieved the small lock box from a small grate in the platform, and from inside, she plucked the small relay beacon. From this height, Christian couldn’t see the code she tapped into the device, but a few moments later, a pale red light flashed through the tunnel.
The message had been sent.
An hour passed. Twenty minutes more. Christian’s breaths were deep, slow, and controlled as he kept watch on Mira’s position.
But inside, his heart thrashed against his ribcage.
This wasn’t just a mission. This was the mission.
The one that let him go back to Gemma. They could not fuck this up, not when Gemma was thinking she was losing herself.
He had to bring Nadine in. There was no alternative plan.
“Joshi, status,” Ahna whispered through the comm in his helmet.
“No movement yet aside from Mira,” Imara whispered back.
“Hold positions.”
Another thirty minutes. Forty.
Christian blinked hard as sweat dripped into his eyes. His stomach was tied in knots. Come on, come on. What if Nadine didn’t show? What if this had all been a set up from the start?
Fuck. Something felt off.
Silently, he scanned the site through his scope, looking for any sign of ambush—
“I’ve got activity,” Imara whispered. “Northeast access, two torchlights. No, wait. Three.”
Christian angled his scope. Mira stood, cracking a glow pack against her hip and tossing it off the platform.
“Shit, that could’ve been a signal,” Claude whispered.
A shadow moved inside the glow. Then a second. A third.
“Hold your position,” Ahna ordered. “Let Mira engage. On my mark.”
Christian focused on his breaths to block out the nerves.
They stopped ten feet from Mira, wearing the same protective gear.
“You’re late,” Mira said, voice tight.
“I’m cautious,” a feminine voice said, low, honeyed, and dangerous through her helmet. “You signaled priority. I pictured something fantastic. Instead, I get twitchy body language and a duffel that smells like bait.”
Christian’s heart skipped a beat.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mira replied. “You wanted high grade Systems tech, Nadine; I got it. Now, you gonna pay me or not?”
Nadine took a step to her right and lifted her head, just a fraction. “I think you brought friends.”
“Go,” Ahna snapped.
Chaos erupted as Christian’s teammates exploded from their hiding places—along with more Dissent soldiers.
Gunfire rang out in the confined space, deafening and sharp. Christian dropped into full sniper focus, the tunnel narrowing to a single point in his vision.
He fired.
The first Dissent guard dropped mid-run, the back of his armor sparking. Christian realigned in a breath and fired again. Another soldier down. The next ducked, rolling for cover behind one of the runoff tanks.
From the opposite side, Yosef unleashed suppressing fire, his blasts hammering those flanking Claude. Hawk leapt over a slag pipe and tackled a gunman, pinning the man with one knee while wrenching his rifle away.
“Imara, watch your left!” Christian barked.
“I see him,” she replied, already moving. Her limp was more pronounced than usual, but she was fluid and lethal, ducking behind a corroded beam before the man got off his shot. Her wrist bracer flashed. Karma zipped down and fired a stun burst into a soldier’s back. He crumpled with a shout.
Ahna was a storm of precision, ducking behind a rusted cart and launching twin bursts from her grav pulse. They collided with a bodyguard’s shoulder, flinging him against the far wall with bone-shattering force.
Christian fired again when a Dissent member stepped out of cover. Another enemy down. He looked from teammate to teammate, but they were each holding their own, their positions preventing any clean shot.
A sharp scream ripped through the chamber. Christian snapped his rifle in the direction of the sound.
Nadine had driven a knife under Mira’s ribs.
Christian swore. He’d promised Gemma he’d bring Nadine back alive, but he’d said nothing about unharmed. Scientists had invented nanobots for a reason: to heal the wounded.
He pointed his gun at Nadine, aiming at her thigh—
His rifle jammed. Fuck.
Nadine snatched Mira’s duffel, shoved the beacon inside, and sprinted for the south exit.
“She’s running,” Christian shouted. “Headed south. Remember, we want her alive.”
“I’m on it,” Imara yelled. Her drone whizzed past Christian’s face so fast; he barely saw it. Karma fired a pulse, but Nadine was quick, raising the duffel as a shield and letting it take the hit.
“You missed,” Hawk teased.
“Gee, thanks for the commentary,” Imara drawled.
“Claude, now!” Ahna shouted.
A deafening boom echoed from the south exit as the ceiling ruptured, crashing down in a cascade of revarium steel and stone, blocking the exit completely. Nadine spun mid-stride and ran northeast.
But the vibration had triggered a wave of destruction.
From the south, scaffolding imploded in a predictive wave, headed straight for where Christian crouched.
Fuck. The roar of the incoming catastrophe shook his bones as he flung his rifle over his back and searched frantically for a way down that would cause the least damage.
The din grew louder.
He was out of time.
Christian shot down the scaffolding at impressive speed, but it wasn’t fast enough. The beam beneath his feet fell away, and as the scaffolding tipped sideways, so did he. He swore, tucking in his body as he dropped.
He slammed into the floor with a bone-rattling crash. The wind knocked clean out of his lungs.
Metal shrieked around him as the collapsed scaffolding rained down in a deafening cascade. Christian rolled onto his stomach and braced himself against the falling debris. His basaltweave suit absorbed the worst of it, but pain still ricocheted through his shoulders, legs, and spine.
At last, the destruction ceased.
“Holm, talk to me,” Ahna barked through his earpiece.
“I’m good.” He winced as he pushed himself to his elbows. Thank the stars for these fucking suits.
Above him, the tunnel’s structure groaned. Debris shifted. A fresh wave of dust spilled across his visor.
He jumped to his feet and darted away, fighting the sharp ache in his side. A bruised rib for sure. He’d had enough of those to know what they felt like.
Across the chamber, through the drifting haze, Nadine Proctor stood surrounded. Ahna to her left, Imara to her right, and Hawk covering the rear. Yosef clamped restraints on her wrists.
Christian flexed his hands at his sides, swallowing the surge of adrenaline rising in his throat.
They had her. At last, he could get back to Gemma.
“Claude, route?” Ahna asked.
“North access is still stable,” Claude confirmed. “We clear that debris pile, we’ve got a straight path out. Might be tight, but it’s solid. I’ve already marked it on your HUDs.”
“Copy. Imara, drone sweep. Confirm no hostiles.”
“All clear,” Imara replied. “No other heat signatures. We’re alone.”
“Copy that. Let’s get Proctor back to Gallowood House. And somebody grab that bag. Philip’s gonna want to know what they’ve been trading.”
Christian stared after Nadine as Hawk shoved her forward, the woman striding like she wore her shackles by choice. His head buzzed and every joint protested, but his focus had never been sharper.
He shouldered his rifle and limped toward the exit, breathing in the victory.