Chapter Five: Old Scars, New Fires
We sprint down rusted corridors, feet slamming against metal with rhythmless urgency. The station groans around us—decaying steel and pressure-locked doors barely holding together. Mira leads, sharp turns and shortcuts like she was born in this dead place.
Behind us, footsteps. Not rushed. Not panicked.
Confident.
That's worse.
"They're not Dominion," Mira pants as we slide into a narrow shaft. "Too precise. Mercs maybe."
"Who hired them?"
She doesn't answer. And that silence answers enough.
We burst into a decaying hangar bay, breath catching in the freezing air. My boots crunch over broken glass and shattered clamps. The exit bay doors are sealed.
"I came in through the south corridor," she says, scanning the walls.
"That's cut off now. Hull breach."
"Then we improvise."
She pulls out a small device—military-grade detonation puck. Dominion issue.
"You stole from the inside?"
"I told you. They need what I have. I just took it first."
She slaps the device on the bulkhead and it starts to hum.
I look at her. "How deep are you in this?"
She meets my gaze. No flinching. "Deep enough that walking away means letting them erase everything. Cities. Colonies. Children."
The hum turns into a low whine.
"You're not here for revenge," I say quietly. "You're here for atonement."
She exhales, long and heavy. "Aren't we all?"
The wall erupts inward, shards of metal raining like starlight. Smoke swallows us, followed by shouts and boot stomps—too many. We leap through the breach, barely clearing the debris, and tumble into a lower deck, Mira landing hard.
I pull her up. "You okay?"
She nods, wincing. "Just bruised pride."
We duck into a side tunnel, dark and slick with coolant from cracked pipes. The emergency lights above flicker red, casting us in flashes of blood.
My comm buzzes with interference—just enough signal to reach the Solace.
"Auto-dock disengage. Prep jump. Coordinates incoming."
The AI acknowledges with a tone.
We're almost out.
The mercs don't chase us down here. They're hunting in patterns. Strategic. Which means they don't just want the data crystal—they want Mira alive.
Why?
She notices the way I'm looking at her. "They think I can still unlock what Requiem became."
"Can you?"
"I helped build the first blueprint, Kael. I might be the only one who still understands the fail-safe."
I swallow hard.
"You never told me that," I say.
"You were too busy being a hero. I was too busy surviving your aftermath."
We reach the lower docking bay, sealed off but thin enough I can blast it. One shot. One chance. I aim the pistol at the lock.
"Ready?"
She smiles, bitter and bright. "Since the day you left."
I fire.
And the door opens—to freedom or fire, I can't yet tell.