Chapter 42 - Cira
Cira moved as quickly as she could through the halls of the prison. Her Boots Fell on The Floor silently. The only Sound coming from her was the slight rustle of her weapons on her side.
Liora was shortly behind her, now equipped with a simple Plasma gun and an Energy knife.
They slipped past a collapsed service tunnel, ducked through a fractured bulkhead, and paused in the shadow of a flickering light.
Cira glanced back. "You're doing… better than I expected. How?"
Liora adjusted her grip on the plasma gun, lips pressing into a thin line behind the visor. She hesitated, then said quietly, "Abel."
Cira tilted her head. «Abel?»
«The... one in charge,» Liora said, almost reluctant. «Security officer. Or commander. Or—I don't know what he is, actually. He didn't wear insignia."ä»
Cira's eyes narrowed behind the mask. «What did he do?»
Liora glanced down the hall, jaw tight. "He was supposed to break me. That's what this place is for, right? They isolate you. Strip everything away. Then turn the pressure up until something cracks. I was getting close. I know I was."
Cira waited.
Liora's voice dropped to a whisper. «But Abel didn't push. Not like the others. He came sometimes. Asked questions, yeah, but he didn't yell. Didn't threaten. Sometimes he just... sat there. Like he was studying me. Like he wanted to understand, not torture. We talked. He gave me food..and water. Most often Tea.»
Cira frowned. «So he was playing good cop.»
«No.»Liora shook her head, voice thin but sure. «It wasn't an act. Or if it was, it was a damn convincing one. He stopped the guards from dragging me out a few weeks ago. Said I was off-limits. And after that, no more sessions. No more pain. Just quiet.»
Cira didn't answer right away.
She didn't know Abel. Hadn't read his file. But something about this unsettled her. That kind of calculated mercy—it wasn't kindness. It was control.
«Do you trust him?» she asked finally.
Liora's fingers tightened around her gun. «No. But I don't hate him, either.»
That was enough to chill her.
Cira turned away, leading the next few steps in silence, her mind ticking through variables. Liora was too steady. Too intact. And Abel… whoever he was, he hadn't made a mistake. He'd chosen to leave Liora untouched.
Which meant he was playing a longer game.
And Liora—unknowingly or not—might be part of it.
«Keep your comms open,» Cira said flatly, voice once again all steel. «If I tell you to run, you run. No hesitation.»
"«I won't slow you down,» Liora said.
«I know.»
That's what I'm afraid of.
∆∆∆∆
Cira knelt at the ledge of the maintenance shaft, checking for sensors. Her HUD showed nothing. No motion plates. No trip wires. No heat signatures. Just a dark climb down forty feet of reinforced wall.
«Sierra. Sub-Level Four access is open. I'm not reading any grid defenses. Confirm?»
Silence.
Then: «Confirmed. Nothing on my end either. Like they want you to get down there.»
Cira's jaw tensed.
«Then let's not disappoint them.»
She clipped her tether to a rusted anchor bolt, helping Liora down first. Then she followed, descending like a shadow through the dark. At the bottom, the floor was dry—too dry. No moisture from the higher levels, no airflow, no scent of decay. Just dead, stale air.
The kind you find in a tomb.
They moved forward.
The lights were steady now—no more flickering reds or failing strobes. Just a low amber glow that ran evenly across the ceiling. The corridor was cleaner too. Walls reinforced. Doors sealed. This was a secure wing, no doubt.
Aren's cell was at the end of the hall.
And it was unlocked.
Cira didn't hesitate.
She moved in with a low step and swept the room. No cameras. No suppression field. No containment systems. Just a narrow cot, a bucket in the corner, and Aren—strapped to the wall by one wrist, head hanging low, hair matted to her face.
She moved to her fast, scanning her vitals through her mask.
Pulse low. Breathing ragged.
«She's drugged,» she murmured. «Mild depressants. Something to keep him weak, not unconscious.»
«Why not just sedate her fully?» Liora asked from the doorway, not entering.
Cira didn't answer right away. She sliced the restraint with her Arcblade, catching Aren as she slumped forward.
He stirred.
Eyes fluttered open.
«...Cira?»
«Yeah. I've got you. You're okay. Stay with me.»
She slid a stimulant patch from her pouch, pressed it to the inside of her neck. Her breath hitched—then evened. Her weight steadied a little.
Cira eased Aren gently to the ground, cradling her for a breath before helping her sit upright against the wall. Her pulse was climbing, stabilizing. The stimulant was working—just not fast. Not fast enough for what Cira felt coiling in the air. Still, she pushed the thought down. No traps had sprung. No alarms. No response to their breach. It was going too well—but she'd take it.
«Can you move?» she asked, voice low, focused.
Aren blinked slowly, then nodded, sluggish. «I think so. Hurts. But… yeah.»
«Good. We'll carry you if we have to.« Cira glanced over her shoulder. «Liora, check the corridor again.»
Liora's silhouette moved at the door, silent, then whispered, «Still clear. I don't like it.»
«Neither do I,» Cira admitted. «But we're not staying.»
She moved quickly now, slipping Aren's arm around her shoulder. Her suit's kinetic lining absorbed the extra weight easily—Lena had tuned the Verlag weave for impact resistance, but it handled stress transfer just as well. Aren was lighter than she remembered, all bone and bruised muscle. Her clothes hung on her like they belonged to someone else.
As they moved, the suit's systems whispered status feeds into Cira's HUD: heart rates, ambient readings, possible audio anomalies. Nothing spiked. Nothing changed. The corridor stayed unnervingly quiet, the amber lights above humming like a lullaby.
Every instinct in her said run.
But she didn't. Not yet.
They moved back down the corridor, retracing steps through the hush. Cira kept scanning—infrared, thermal, pressure shifts. Still nothing.
Liora helped with the weight as Aren's legs began to respond. The girl gritted her teeth, forcing herself to move.
"She was chained up, left conscious, unguarded," Liora said under her breath. "You don't think they wanted us to find her like this?"
Cira didn't answer. Her mind was already elsewhere—mapping the route out. No signs of patrols. No signal jammers. No electromagnetic distortions. They reached the shaft entrance faster than they should have.
She tapped her hearing aid.
«Orlan. We have Aren. Exfil point Delta still open?»
«Still open,» Orlan confirmed, voice calm. «Evran and Bran are sweeping the upper sub-levels. Haven't encountered resistance. Extraction tunnel's clear. You've got four minutes before I trigger the fallback timer.»
«Copy that. Moving.»
Cira hooked the tether back into her harness. She lowered Aren up first this time, locking her in and letting Liora guide her up. The winch was quiet—Lena's redesign used magnetic threading and sound-cancellation dampers instead of gears. It worked like silk.
The whole thing felt wrong.
And still she said nothing.
Once they were all back in the maintenance hall, they started toward the exit route. No lockdowns. No reroutes. The only obstacle was a collapsed steam pipe near the turnoff—a minor detour, but expected. Cira marked it on her HUD and led them around.
The silence deepened the closer they got to the surface. Sierra's voice had gone quiet again, but a glance at her readout confirmed she was still linked in. Cira figured she was rerouting feeds or focusing on the evac point.
They passed through an auxiliary power junction, descending one last service ladder into the tunnel that led back toward the underground rail line. One more hatch. One more seal. Then they'd be out.
Orlan's voice crackled in her ear. «We've got your signal. You're fifty meters out. Evran and Bran are waiting at the junction.»
Cira exhaled. "We're almost clear."
Aren leaned heavier against her but walked on her own now. Liora kept glancing back. Weapons still drawn. Like she expected something to leap out of the walls.
They reached the hatch.
Still unlocked.
Still unguarded.
Cira opened it, and cool air from the tunnel beyond rushed in—metallic, sharp with ozone from the monorail grid. The low thunder of distant engines echoed beyond.
No pursuit.
No alarms.
Just the exit.
They stepped into it, one by one.
Cira looked back once, into the dim corridor behind them.
Nothing followed.
Nothing had.
She didn't realize how tightly she'd been holding her breath until her HUD dimmed and the suit disengaged combat mode, recognizing safety range.
It was done.
They were out.
Still, as she helped Aren toward the extraction tram, her gut wouldn't settle. Not from fear. But from the absence of it.