The barge scraped against a dock that was not built, but grown. It was a single, seamless curve of pearlescent material that met the black glass shore without a joint or weld. Before them, a section of the glowing sphere detached, receding into the wall with a sound like sighing air, revealing an airlock of impossible perfection. There was no rust, no dust, no decay. Irina Pavlenko felt the sight in her teeth, a deep, structural wrongness that set every instinct she owned on edge. Her world was made of grit and labor, of seams that showed the honesty of the hands that made them. This was something else.
Her objective was simple: secure repairs for the Perun’s damaged anchor and refuel their dwindling reactor. The price of crossing the Reach had been a week of their future, a cost they could not afford to pay twice. She slid a hand into her leather satchel, her fingers closing around the familiar heft of a heavy wrench. The worn steel was cool against her skin, the faint impression of a three-spoked gear stamped near the head a solid, grounding truth. It was a tool, made for a purpose. It remembered its function.
A figure emerged from the airlock, stepping into the grey, toxic light of the outside world. The woman’s uniform was a brilliant, sterile white that should have been immediately soiled by the air, but the grime and salt seemed to slide off it. She was Administrator Elara Vance, and her calm, analytical expression held no welcome, only assessment. She moved toward them, her steps silent on the perfect dock.
— You are the survivors of the Perun, — Vance stated, her voice as clean and measured as her uniform. It was not a question. Her eyes, a pale, dispassionate grey, scanned their faces, cataloging their exhaustion, their patched gear, their humanity. — Your journey has been… inefficient. Please, follow me.
Irina exchanged a look with Sineus. He stood beside her, a ghost of a man, the strain of the crossing still etched on his face. He gave a nearly imperceptible nod. Irina’s hand tightened on the wrench in her satchel, then she forced it to relax. She was a guest here. A supplicant.
Vance led them through the airlock. The outer door hissed shut, and for a moment they were in a small, white chamber. A wave of warm, clean air washed over them, carrying the scent of nothing at all. Not ozone, not hot metal, not even the smell of people. It was the sterile scent of a void. The inner door opened, and the silence that greeted them was more intimidating than the roar of the Anvil Heart’s forges.
They walked through corridors of the same seamless, white material. There were no conduits, no access panels, no maker’s marks. The light came from the walls themselves, a soft, even glow with no discernible source. Irina felt a primal urge to take out a tool, to find a seam, to understand how this place was built. But there was nothing to find. It was as if it had simply willed itself into being.
The Administrator brought them to a halt before a wall that turned from opaque to transparent, revealing a view that stole the breath from Irina’s lungs. Below them, under a soft, artificial sun, lay a city nestled in a forest. Not the mutated, struggling vegetation of the wastes, but a true forest, with trees taller than any she had ever seen, their leaves a thousand shades of impossible green. A river of actual, clear water flowed through the city, and on its banks, children played. They ran and laughed with an abandon that spoke of a life without fear.
It was a memory of a world that had died centuries ago. A perfect, living photograph of everything they had lost.
— Your world is dying, — Administrator Vance said, her voice cutting through their awe. — It is a failed experiment, collapsing under the weight of its own flawed memories. Ours is not. We offer a place for the worthy.
Irina tore her eyes from the impossible vista. — We are not seeking sanctuary. We need to repair our Mnemonic Anchor and refuel our reactor. We can pay. We have schematics, resources…
— Payment is a concept for societies that still believe in scarcity, — Vance interrupted, a flicker of something like pity in her eyes. — We do not trade. We select. We will grant sanctuary to your best and brightest. Your engineers, your data, your most stable minds. We will preserve the best of your culture.
She paused, letting the weight of her words settle. — Leave the rest to the dust.
The offer was a punch to the gut. Abandon the mission. Abandon the alliance. Abandon everyone who wasn't "worthy." It was a gilded cage, and the door was being held open.
Vance’s gaze settled on Irina, her voice softening, becoming a scalpel. — We have archives of pre-Blast technology you can only dream of, Engineer Pavlenko. The full, uncorrupted schematics for naval-grade reactors. The theory behind mnemonic shielding. Knowledge that could save your people, if they were worth saving.
The words struck Irina like a physical blow. Knowledge. The real knowledge, not the patched-together, half-remembered litanies of Union 9. The chance to truly understand the machines she had spent her life trying to coax into function. The desire was a physical ache, a hunger she had not realized she possessed. Her loyalty to the Union, to the hard, honest work of the forge, felt suddenly heavy and pointless against the promise of such perfection.
She looked at Sineus, seeking an anchor, but he was watching Vance, his face a mask of quiet intensity. She looked at her crew. Pavel Orlov, his jaw slack, was staring at the hydroponic farms visible in the distance, a look of pure, desperate longing on his face. The delegate from the River Commons was mesmerized by the sight of the clean, flowing river. The fragile unity forged in the fires of Trestle 7 and the terror of the Vitreous Reach was dissolving in this clean, quiet air. They were no longer a team. They were a collection of desperate individuals, and Vance had just named every one of their prices.
The alliance, she realized with a cold certainty, was broken. Its integrity had been cut in half, not by an enemy attack, but by a simple, logical offer. The slow, corrosive pull of fragmentation had found them at last.
