The Crossing
The maintenance duct was a tight, suffocating coffin of cold steel. They crawled in single file, the scrape of their clothes and the sound of their own breathing unnaturally loud in the confined space. Anja's heart hammered against her ribs, each beat a frantic drum counting down the seconds until their discovery. Kenji went first, his movements economical and silent, while Jaya brought up the rear, a grim, watchful shadow.
After what felt like an eternity, Kenji stopped at a grated vent cover. He carefully unfastened the rusted clips, his fingers moving with a surgeon's precision. The panel came away with a faint, metallic sigh. Cool, humid air, smelling of damp earth and growing things, washed over them—the scent of life.
One by one, they slipped through the opening, dropping silently onto the soft, loamy floor of a planter box filled with withered, blighted stalks. They were in.
The Glass Garden
Anja rose slowly, peering over the edge of the planter, and the sight stole her breath. They were in a vast, cavernous chamber, the likes of which she had only seen in pictures from the Before-Time. Row upon row of hydroponic trays stretched into the distance, each filled with vibrant, unnaturally green plants. The air was filled with the gentle hum of water pumps and the bright, sterile glare of hundreds of grow-lights that mimicked a sun that no longer existed.
This was Voss's sanctuary. It was a place of life, but it was a cold, calculated, and artificial life. There was no chaos here, no struggle. Just the quiet, relentless hum of machinery forcing growth in a dead world.
The bay was not empty. Several figures in drab, gray jumpsuits moved silently between the rows, their movements slow and methodical, like drones tending a machine. And patrolling the central walkways were the guards, their black armor a stark, brutal contrast to the green of the plants. They moved with a purpose that the shuffling workers lacked, their presence a constant, chilling reminder that this garden was a fortress.
The Stolen Spear
As Anja's eyes adjusted, her gaze was drawn to the main entrance on the far side of the bay—the reinforced steel door they had been unable to breach. Mounted on a heavy tripod beside it, aimed directly at the door, was a familiar weapon. Its long barrel and distinctive power cell were unmistakable.
"Our rifle," Jaya breathed from beside her, her voice a low, venomous whisper. The pulse rifle from their watchtower, the one charged by Anja's own solar panels, was now serving as the final line of defense for their enemy's most precious resource. The sheer, calculated cruelty of it was a physical blow. Voss wasn't just a conqueror; he was a master of psychological warfare.
The Ghost's Task
"The seed bank will be in a secure vault," Anja whispered, tearing her eyes away from the rifle. "And the nutrient controls should be centralized. I need to get to a terminal."
Kenji scanned the area, his eyes missing nothing. "There's a monitoring station fifty meters from here, partially obscured by that bank of water purifiers. Two workers, one guard on a patrol that passes every three minutes. It's our only shot."
"Go," Jaya commanded. "We'll cover you."
The next few minutes were the longest of Anja's life. Following Kenji's path, she moved in a low crouch from the shadow of one hydroponic tray to the next, the soft rustle of leaves a deafening roar in her ears. A worker passed just a few feet from her hiding place, his eyes vacant, never looking up. The guard's heavy, rhythmic footsteps grew louder, then faded as he continued his patrol.
Now.
She darted across the last open space and slipped behind the purifiers, her back pressing against the cold, vibrating metal of the monitoring station. The terminal was right there, its screen displaying a calm, green schematic of the bay. She slid into the operator's chair, her hands flying across the keyboard, the muscle memory of her father's lessons taking over.
The Poison and the Prize
Her fingers became an extension of her thoughts. She bypassed the low-level security with an ease that surprised her, delving into the system's core programming. The refinery's systems were a patchwork of old and new, and she found the flaw her father had always taught her to look for—an old diagnostic protocol that had never been properly secured.
Two critical pieces of information appeared on the screen. The first was a schematic of the central vault, located directly beneath Voss's command hub. The Seed Bank. It was protected by a heavy, mag-locked door. The second was the diagram she was truly looking for: the nutrient and water distribution network.
Her heart gave a single, hard thump. It was exactly as she'd hoped. The system drew water from a massive, primary reservoir before injecting the nutrient solution. A single access valve, located in a service tunnel just below the bay, controlled the flow into that reservoir.
The plan solidified in her mind, cold and clear. If they could introduce a concentrated contaminant—salt, bleach, anything—directly into the reservoir through that valve, the automated system would then dutifully pump the poison to every single plant in the bay. It would be a silent, irreversible death. They wouldn't just be destroying the crop; they would be salting the earth.
She memorized the valve's location and the access codes for the seed bank vault. Wiping the terminal's short-term memory log, she slipped away from the station and back to the shadows where Jaya and Kenji waited.
"I have it," she whispered, her voice trembling with a mixture of terror and fierce, triumphant resolve. "I know where the prize is. And I know how to turn their garden into a graveyard."