Admiral Thane, his uniform stiff with silver braid, offered a thin, practiced smile. “Vannor. This is my wing. My operation.”
“Your wing?” Vannor’s voice scraped like dragging iron. He took another step, closing the distance between them. His optic lens, now a piercing sapphire, fixed on Thane. “This facility is Vanguard property. Every quadrant falls under my purview while I conduct an active hunt.”
“Indeed,” Thane conceded, his smile tightening. “And my current operation is… an interrogation. A delicate matter, concerning a saboteur who compromised several of our deep-range sensors. Baleq here.” He gestured with a dismissive flick of his wrist toward my uncle. “We were merely… extracting information.”
The creature behind the glass thrashed, its multiple bioluminescent eyes blinking like a drowned constellation. It certainly looked like it was *extracting* something, though it wasn’t information. Vannor’s gaze flickered to Baleq, a faint frown creasing his brow.
“A saboteur?” Vannor’s tone indicated he wasn’t entirely convinced, but the seed of doubt had been planted. He’d never been privy to the brass’s… ‘methods.’ “I wasn’t informed of any such breach.”
“Top secret. For obvious reasons,” Thane purred, his eyes darting toward the writhing entity for a fraction of a second. “We caught him attempting to pilfer critical hydro-vent schematics. He’s been resistant. Had to employ… unconventional means to loosen his tongue.”
My fingers fumbled with the clasp of my pouch. Baleq was about to become monster chow. I slipped out my terminal slate, its dim screen contrasting with the tank's sickly glow. The station’s hydro-vent system was interwoven with this Vanguard quadrant. A grid of regulators, thermal exchangers, and intake valves mapped the display.
My thumbs flew across the slate. Bypass valve on the main conduit, reroute line force from Gamma, divert thermal exhaust to manifold 7-B. I targeted the primary feed line that supplied this room's environmental controls. A sudden surge, a controlled rupture, and the entire floor would vanish behind scalding vapor.
Thane was still attempting to placate the Abyssal Commander, his voice a smooth balm. “Just a standard black-site detention. Nothing for you to concern yourself with.”
“Nothing for me to concern myself with?” Vannor took another step, his shadow falling over Thane. “A classified ‘interrogation’ in a restricted wing of my base, with a creature of unknown origin behind reinforced glass? You believe that falls outside my purview, Admiral?”
Thane bristled, his composure fraying. “I believe you are overstepping. This is a matter of national security, not some petty recovery run.”
“National security?” Vannor scoffed, his gaze hardening. “Or a convenient cover for something far more… unsavory?” He turned to the creature, his cybernetic eye zooming, analyzing the rippling flesh. “What precisely *is* that thing, Thane?”
Before Thane could formulate another lie, I struck the confirm key. The deck plates groaned. A low drone vibrated through the plating, rattling my boots. The reinforced lines along the bulkheads shuddered, screaming under metal stress. A hiss whistled from an overhead valve.
“What in the abyss—?” Thane’s voice broke as the overhead pipe buckled with an ear-splitting crack. Superheated water erupted from the fracture, flash-boiling into a blinding cloud. A deafening roar swallowed the catwalk as visibility vanished. Guards shouted in confusion while the emergency lights strobed amber through the fog.
“Everyone! Hold position!” Vannor barked through the hiss, though the roar smothered his order.
This was my chance. I tucked the slate into my belt and broke into a crouch. The air bit hot, but the insulated dive-lining beneath my intern overalls absorbed the worst of it. Tracking the handrails by memory, I slid past the blind guards. A choked cough echoed three paces ahead.
“Baleq!” I hissed, reaching out, my hand finding his arm. His skin was clammy, but he was alive. I yanked him up, pulling him away from the confused guards.
“Siora? What are you… You idiot, you shouldn’t be here!” His voice was hoarse, raspy with fear and exertion. “You have to run! Get out, now!”
“Not without you!” I tugged him toward the hatchway panel, feeling along the metal for the maintenance latch. “What was Thane talking about? Sabotage?”
He stumbled, slumping against the bulkhead. “No time, Siora! It was me… I rigged your regulator, the heat-toxin… The military, they… they seeded something in your tissue! An abyssal larva. I saw the scans. The thermal agent was the only way to purge it, to keep you alive!”
A parasite? The heat-toxin had been a brutal purge to burn out an infection. My conniving uncle had ruined his own life just to keep me breathing.
“They’re going to feed you to that thing, aren’t they?” I pushed past his protests, tearing at the panel, my fingers flying over the delicate circuit board. “We’re getting out, both of us.”
“No, you don’t understand! Vannor… he’s looking for you. For *her*,” Baleq gasped, pointing a trembling finger toward the walkway. “The phantom diver. He has a bio-scanner tuned to her unique arterial cadence! He’ll know! You have to run!”
The steam, which had been so thick, began to thin with alarming speed. My engineered rupture was closing, the failsafe protocols kicking in faster than anticipated. Shapes began to coalesce in the fading whiteout. The distinct silhouette of Vannor, boots planted wide, loomed five paces away. His cybernetic eye burned a harsh crimson as he panned across the deck on high-frequency sweep.
“Go! Now, Siora!” Baleq urged, pushing me with his last ounce of strength.
I hesitated. Baleq’s warning about Vannor’s tracker matched the paranoia I'd nursed since fleeing him, but I couldn't leave my uncle behind after hearing the truth.
A hulking shadow cut through the last wisps of vapor. Thick fingers clamped around my shoulder, wrenching me back. Metal struck my shoulder blades as I hit the deck plates, the air driven from my lungs in an explosive gasp. Vannor leaned down, knee driving beside my hip. His calloused hand closed around my wrist, pinning the radial artery hard against bone.
He locked onto my face, scowling, then slowly looked down at his forearm vambrace. A red diode pulsed against his cuff, chirping a steady ping that matched the tempo thumping beneath his grip. Beat for beat. The signature of the diver who had slipped his grasp.