The iron rungs of the service ladder were slick with a century of chemical grime, each one a risk. Kaito descended into the blackness, the city’s oppressive hum fading above him, replaced by the steady, hollow drip of water echoing in a vast, unseen space. The air was thick and cold, smelling of industrial solvents and stagnant water, a scent that clung to the back of the throat. Eva followed, her movements as quiet and sure as his own were pained.
At the bottom, a narrow ferrocrete ledge ran along a channel of black, oily water. A barge, a rust-bucket held together by patches and grim determination, idled against the ledge. Its engine whined with the sound of failing bearings. A figure detached from the shadows near the stern, a man whose face was a roadmap of scars under the single, bare bulb that lit the vessel. This was their smuggler.
— Get on, — the smuggler’s voice was a low rasp, like metal grinding on stone. — Credits first.
Eva transferred the payment without a word. Kaito stepped onto the groaning deck, the data-slate containing Anya’s soul a cold weight against his ribs. The smuggler cast off the lines, and the barge pushed away from the ledge, its single propeller churning the foul water. They slid into the main canal, a black artery running through the city’s forgotten guts. The only light came from the distant, blood-red eyes of automated sentry turrets, which swept over them and moved on, seeing nothing worth their attention. For a moment, there was only the sound of the whining engine and the hiss of rain on the water’s surface.
Then the silence broke. A shape detached itself from the black water ahead, rising without a ripple. It was a patrol pod, a sleek, silent OmniCore naval security vehicle shaped like a shard of obsidian. Its surface was a matte black that drank the dim light. There was no sound, no engine roar, just a sudden, predatory presence in the narrow channel.
A searchlight, a blade of pure white, stabbed through the darkness and locked onto the barge, pinning them in its glare. They were caught. Exposed. A high, piercing shriek, the Severance Tone, lanced through Kaito’s skull as his Crosstalk Weave reacted to the sudden, overwhelming manifestation of the System’s will. He flinched, his hand instinctively going to his kinetic pistol, but he knew it was useless.
From the patrol pod’s hull, a swarm of small drones detached, their rotors a low, angry hum. They fanned out, their single red optical sensors fixing on the barge, moving to surround them. The tactical disadvantage was absolute. This was not a fight; it was an execution.
— Move, — Eva’s voice was sharp, cutting through his paralysis. She shoved him away from the rusted railing and threw herself at a hacked terminal bolted to the barge’s console, a piece of the smuggler’s custom rig. Her fingers flew across the keys, the screen’s green glow illuminating the fierce concentration on her face. She was not a brawler; this was her weapon. This was her ground.
— What are you doing? — Kaito yelled over the rising hum of the drones.
— Looking for a bigger wrench, — she shot back, not taking her eyes off the scrolling code. She was slicing into the canal’s antiquated control system, a network too old and too dirty for OmniCore to have fully integrated. She was hunting for an environmental weapon. The drones were closing in, forming a perimeter.
— Got it, — she hissed. — Hold on.
Her finger stabbed a final key. For a second, nothing happened. Then, a deep, groaning shudder echoed through the ferrocrete walls of the canal. From a connecting channel fifty meters ahead, a torrent of churning, filthy water erupted into the main artery. An emergency floodgate, opened. The patrol pod, caught broadside by the sudden, violent current, was lifted and sent spinning. The million liters of water were a battering ram.
The smuggler fought the controls, his knuckles white as he kept the barge from being swamped. The drones, their flight paths disrupted by the violent surge of air and water, scattered like panicked insects. The patrol pod slammed against the far wall of the canal, its searchlight flickering and dying. The smuggler used the chaos, steering the barge hard into a dark, narrow side channel as the floodwaters raged past them.
They were through. They had escaped. Kaito’s breath came in ragged gasps, the phantom ache of the Severance Tone fading. He looked back. In the churning darkness, he saw the patrol pod, crippled and half-submerged, its emergency lights flashing. Just before it was swept away into the deeper tunnels, a single, tight-beam data packet lanced from its antenna. A final report. It sent their last known location and direction of travel.
Their escape was temporary. The trap was closing ahead of them, not behind, and the alley ahead was an end to the running.
