The air in Sector 4 smelled like ionized copper and the slow, creeping rot of recycled oxygen. For Kaelen, it was the only smell he'd ever known.
Kael adjusted his goggles, the cracked glass distorting the blue flicker of the plasma torch in his hand. He was currently hanging upside down from a rusted catwalk, thirty meters above the cooling fans of the Aegis station's primary reactor. One slip, and he wouldn't just be fired; he'd be vaporized.
"Steady, Kael," a voice crackled in his ear. It was Jax, his spotter and only friend, sitting safely in the control booth. "The Prefects are doing a sweep of the lower levels in ten minutes. If you aren't out of that vent by then, I'm marking you as 'lost in maintenance'."
"Your optimism is inspiring, Jax," Kael muttered, his voice muffled by his respirator.
He reached into the narrow gap of the bulkhead. He wasn't supposed to be here. This was the "Dead Zone," a section of the station sealed off after the Great Surge eighty years ago. Most scavengers stayed away, fearing the lingering radiation or the ghosts of the old crew. Kael didn't believe in ghosts, but he did believe in the 500 credits a Black-Market dealer had promised for an intact Pre-Surge data core.
His fingers brushed something cold. It wasn't the jagged edge of a pipe or the smooth surface of a standard core. It felt… oily. Like the surface of a pond, yet solid.
"I've got something," Kael whispered.
"Grab it and move! The heat signatures are moving toward your sector," Jax hissed.
Kael pulled. The object resisted, then gave way with a silent, jarring snap that vibrated through his very bones. As it came free, the lights in the corridor above flickered and died. A deep, resonant hum—lower than the reactor's thrum—reverberated through the floorboards.
He looked at the prize in his hand. It wasn't a data core. It was a sphere of obsidian-black glass, swirling with internal silver mists that seemed to move against the laws of physics.
"Jax? The power just dipped. Did you do that?"
No answer. Only static.
Kael's heart hammered against his ribs. He stuffed the sphere into his satchel and began to climb. He swung his body onto the catwalk just as the heavy pressurized doors at the end of the hall began to groan open.
The Prefects.
He didn't wait to see their white-and-gold armor. He sprinted in the opposite direction, his heavy boots clattering on the metal grates. The Aegis was a labyrinth, and he was its rat. But as he ran, he felt a strange warmth spreading from his satchel, seeping through his jumpsuit and into his skin.
A voice—not Jax's, and not a human's—echoed directly into his mind.
Kael stumbled, nearly tripping over a loose cable. "Who's there?" he gasped, spinning around. The hallway was empty, save for the flickering emergency lights.
"Jax, if this is a prank, I'm going to melt your favorite wrench," Kael breathed, but deep down, he knew. The sphere wasn't just tech. It was something older. Something the station was built to hide.
Behind him, the heavy thud of Prefect boots accelerated. "Halt, Scavenger! By order of the High Council, relinquish the artifact!"
Kael looked at the ventilation shaft ahead. It was a four-story drop into the trash compactors. It was suicide.
Kael didn't have time to argue with the ghost in his head. He dived.