Kaelen hit the ground with the stunning force of a falling anvil. He didn't just land; he tumbled, the momentum of the high-speed jump sending him skidding across the dry, cracked earth near the perimeter fence. The world dissolved into a chaos of pain and grit.
He lay still for a terrifying moment, tasting the metallic, stinging flavor of copper dust and blood. Every muscle screamed in protest, but nothing felt broken.
Aura (Faint, muffled hum from the pouch):
Seven broken ribs, Kaelen registered the cold diagnosis through a haze of pain. Thanks for the good news, ghost.
Ignoring the agony, Kaelen rolled, shoving his body under the low-slung, razor-wired fence. He felt the cold, sharp teeth of the wire bite into his leather coat, tearing the fabric, but he kept moving.
He was inside the Aether-Storage Tank Farm—a landscape of monumental bronze spheres, each holding tons of highly compressed, volatile Aether gas. The air here was heavy, almost intoxicating, smelling strongly of ozone and burnt sugar. The silence was unnatural, punctuated only by the low, continuous thrumming of the pressure regulators.
He scrambled behind the nearest colossal tank, a surface so smooth and hot it radiated heat like a furnace.
A figure in the distance, marching with military precision, came into view. It was a soldier of the Mechanist Corps, their uniform crisp, dark, and perfectly starched, the polished brass buckles gleaming in the smoggy light. The soldier carried a Steam-Rifle, its muzzle fitted with a complex focusing lens designed to turn Aether into a concentrated energy beam.
Kaelen pressed himself flat against the hot metal. The soldier was twenty yards away, advancing slowly.
I need the Stealth-Shield. Now.
Kaelen fumbled with the pouch, his trembling fingers closing around the cold, smooth Quantum Disc. He had deliberately severed the neural link, meaning he couldn't just think the shield on. He had to use the disc, like a tool.
He pulled the disc out and saw the tiny, almost invisible contact port he'd used for the Aether pipe. The soldier was ten yards away.
Connect it.
Kaelen yanked a thin, pre-prepared copper wire from his sleeve—a Scrapper's contingency kit—and, with a grimace of concentration, stabbed one end into the Quantum Disc's port. The other end, he clamped onto a small brass valve on the Aether tank beside him.
He was using the Tank Farm itself as the power source.
Fwoooosh!
The wire instantly glowed white-hot, conducting the raw, concentrated Aether into the Quantum Disc. The disc roared to life, not with the gentle hum of the neural link, but with a harsh, high-pitched whine—the sound of pure logic being force-fed raw magic.
The invisible Stealth-Shield snapped back into place, thicker and more stable than before.
The Mechanist Corps soldier stopped, right in front of Kaelen's position. The soldier's head snapped left, then right. He didn't see Kaelen. But he felt something.
He lowered his Steam-Rifle, sniffing the air. "Pressure flux," he muttered, his voice muffled by the high-collar of his uniform. "Smell of burnt copper. Scrappers."
The soldier began moving slowly around the massive bronze sphere. Kaelen had mere inches of tank between his back and the rifle's muzzle.
Aura (A faint, digital ping in Kaelen's mind, a ghost of a voice):
I know, damn it! Kaelen thought, his hands gripping the hot copper wire. He was stealing enough raw power to run a small factory, and if the pressure dropped too much, the entire tank could implode, flattening half the farm.
The soldier was now rounding the tank. Kaelen could see the polished tips of his boots. He had seconds.
Aura:
I can't. That will cause an explosion. I'm too close!
Aura:
Kaelen hesitated, but the glint of the Steam-Rifle's muzzle appearing around the curve of the tank decided his choice.
He yanked the wire free of the Quantum Disc, causing the shield to instantly collapse, and then slammed the disc's focusing nozzle against the tank, directing the remaining high-pressure Aether towards the soldier.
He aimed not at the man, but at the Steam-Rifle.
Zzzzzzt!
A clean, violent arc of blue-white energy erupted from the Quantum Disc, striking the Steam-Rifle dead center. The rifle didn't explode. It simply vaporized its own brass and copper components in a brilliant, non-explosive shower of sparks and molten metal.
The soldier yelled, dropping the ruined remnants of his weapon. He was unharmed, but blinded by the flash.
"Intruder! I need support!" the soldier roared, clutching his eyes.
Kaelen didn't wait. He sprinted, relying on Aura's map—the detailed, invisible overlay of the Tank Farm's logistics—that was still lingering in his consciousness.
He ran not towards the exit gate, but deeper into the maze of tanks, towards a low-profile maintenance hatch Aura had marked: VECTOR MU-9.
He reached the hatch, a heavy, circular seal, just as two more Mechanist Corps patrols sprinted into the area. Kaelen tried to pull the wheel, but his strength was failing—the broken ribs were winning.
I can't open it!
Aura:
Kaelen pressed the silver disc against the cold metal of the hatch. The silver warmed instantly, and a low, sickening thrum began. The metal around the disc seemed to warp, the atoms momentarily losing cohesion.
Click.
The hatch popped open, sucked inward by the gravitational anomaly created by the disc.
Kaelen plunged into the darkness of the maintenance tunnel just as the first patrol rounded the corner. He slammed the hatch shut.
He was trapped in the darkness, the sounds of the enraged soldiers echoing above.
"Where am I, Aura? What is this tunnel?"
Aura:
A faint, rattling sound echoed from the far end of the pipe. Kaelen froze, pulling his emergency gas-lantern.
The light revealed a figure hunched over a sparking, complicated circuit board connected to the waste line—a small, dark-haired woman, her face smudged with soot and intelligence, wearing goggles that magnified her eyes to an unsettling size.
She didn't react to Kaelen. She was completely absorbed in her work.
"Who are you?" Kaelen managed, his ribs burning with every strained breath.
The woman didn't look up. She merely pointed a small, grease-stained finger at the sparking wires she was manipulating.
"I am making the lights turn on," she said, her voice dry and quiet, like the rubbing of sandpaper. "And you, Mechanist with the illegal Quantum Disc, are standing on my power source."
She finally looked up, her magnified eyes fixing on Kaelen.
"You're wanted. We should work together. I need a distraction. You need an army."