The faint hum of the mag-lev system was the only sound as the elevator glided downward, its walls lined with sleek, matte-white panels that pulsed faintly with system diagnostics. Soft blue holo-displays shimmered along the edges, cycling through facility schematics and security clearance levels. A touch-sensitive interface hovered midair, its translucent glyphs shifting in response to their forged credentials, the dim glow of status lights reflecting off the stolen McPherson maintenance uniforms. Gravel adjusted his ID badge, rolling his shoulders as he practiced his lines. Beside him, Fang tapped at a holo-slate, her lips barely moving as she whispered into her private comm. While she spoke, her fingers flicked through security subroutines, casually silencing any automated surveillance pings.
“I know, I know,” she murmured. “You’re busy with your dissertation. But it’s been weeks, Kai. You could at least pretend to miss me.”
A pause. Her expression softened. “No, I’m not getting into trouble.”
Gravel arched a brow, glancing at Hunter. Hunter smirked at him.
Fang shot them both a glare before turning back to her comm. “I gotta go. Love you, too. Mwah.” She ended the call, tucking the earpiece away just as the elevator dinged.
Hua Fang already compromised the camera system earlier, and she felt like rewarding herself with some lovey-dovey talk with her boyfriend whom she had dated since forever.
Gravel shook his head, grinning. “Remind me again why you, of all people, are dating some upright academic?”
Fang scoffed, crossing her arms. “First of all, Kai is brilliant. He’s working on predictive models that could revolutionize interstellar logistics. See; see?” She held up a holo-slate displaying a dense academic paper filled with equations and data visualizations, then turned it off before any of them could have a good look. “Second, he actually reads—like, real books, not just mission briefs and bounties. Third, he—”
“—isn’t here to listen to you gush,” Hunter cut in, smirking.
Fang ignored her. “He’s also ridiculously patient. Do you know how hard it is to find a guy who’ll stay up late just to entertain me with stories about—”
She stopped mid-sentence.
Gravel followed her gaze.
A McPherson security officer stood at the far end of the hallway, checking his datapad, oblivious—for now.
Hunter exhaled. “Well. That killed the mood.”
Priest, who had been silent the entire ride down, barely moved as he muttered, “Talk later. Move now.”
Fang straightened, slipping seamlessly back into character. “Right. Maintenance team, coming through.”
They stepped forward. The real test was about to begin.
They walked with purpose, the steady rhythm of their boots against the polished floor blending with the distant hum of servers and machinery. Fang took the lead, clutching a clipboard as if it held the weight of a thousand service requests. Hunter and Gravel flanked her, while Priest lingered just behind, his visor, now transparent and barely visible only to him, quietly scanning for potential threats.
The security officer barely glanced up at first, absorbed in his datapad. But as they drew closer, his gaze flickered toward them, then lingered a second too long.
Fang didn’t hesitate. She rolled her eyes and let out an exaggerated sigh, flipping through her clipboard with mock irritation. “Oh, great. Security. Just what I needed. Let me guess—nobody put in the system ticket for the cooling unit recalibration, and now we’re supposed to just wave a magic wand and fix it?”
The officer frowned, his grip on the datapad tightening. “I wasn’t informed of any maintenance today.”
“Of course you weren’t,” Fang huffed, gripping the clipboard a bit too tightly. “Because the system is a mess. Corporate cutbacks mean half the facility is running on outdated scheduling software. But sure, let’s all stand around and wait for the server banks to overheat. Your call.” She had to stop herself from using slangs like ‘corpo’ that would definitely raise suspicions.
She turned slightly, as if ready to march past him without waiting for permission. Hunter made a show of checking his wrist device. “Yeah, clock’s ticking, buddy. This isn’t the kind of problem you want to let slide.”
The officer hesitated. His eyes darted between them, then to his datapad. Priest’s visor flickered with new data—his pulse had elevated slightly, but no immediate alert had been sent. He was wary, but not suspicious enough to sound the alarm. Yet.
Gravel decided to help things along. He let out a long-suffering groan. “Look, man. If it helps, we hate being here as much as you do. But if you want to clear it with admin, go ahead—just know that when the system flags a temperature spike in ten minutes, they’re gonna ask why you stopped us.”
The officer exhaled sharply, considering. Then, with a grunt, he stepped aside. “Fine. But keep it quick.”
Fang flashed a tight, professional smile. “Wouldn’t dream of staying longer.”
They walked past without breaking stride. Only when they rounded the corner did Fang exhale, whispering into her comm, “And that, gentlemen, is how you fake your way through corporate bureaucracy.”
Hunter smirked. “Still doesn’t explain how you managed to date someone so honest.”
Fang rolled her eyes. “Oh, shut up and let me work.”
Priest’s visor chimed—THREAT PROXIMITY: LOW. ACCESS POINT: 30 METERS AHEAD.
They were in.
Priest’s visor guided them through the labyrinth of corridors, past sterile-white panels and silent security cameras.
Fang tapped at her holo-slate. “I’m in the network. Patching Vanje through now.”
A soft chime confirmed the connection, and Vanje’s voice crackled in their ears. “Alright, you’ve got a five-minute window before the system notices something’s off. Get what we need and get out.”
Gravel rubbed his hands together. “Smoothest job yet.”
“Don’t jinx it,” muttered Hunter.
“How about sushi after this?” Gravel asked.
“Are we still going on with that?” She glared at him.
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They reached the access terminal—an unassuming console tucked between two towering server racks. Priest took position, visor dimming as he linked into the system, his fingers moving with mechanical efficiency. Data began to stream onto Fang’s slate, layer by layer unlocking under Vanje’s remote decryption.
Then, everything stopped.
Priest’s visor flickered—SYSTEM INTERRUPTED. UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS FLAGGED.
A chill ran down his spine. Someone else was here.
And then he saw her.
Standing just beyond the servers, half-lit by the cold glow of a status display, was Sloan.
Her expression was cloudy, but the slight tilt of his head told Priest everything—Sloan wasn’t surprised to see him. She had been expecting this.
For a second, he wasn’t in a corporate facility. He was back in the underbelly of Helion Prime, rain hammering against rusted steel walkways, his breath ragged as he aimed down his sights. Sloan had been there too—same smirk, same calculating eyes—her pulse pistol steady despite the firefight raging around them. You’re outgunned, Dakarai, she had said, voice smooth over the comms. But I like you. So I’ll give you a five-second head start.
Priest’s hands curled into fists as he pulled himself back to reality.
“Problem?” Gravel whispered, noticing his shift in posture.
Priest didn’t answer. He kept his voice even, but the weight behind it was unmistakable.
“Keep working, children. I’ll handle this.”
His visor’s HUD zoomed in on Sloan, scanning for weapons, comm signals, anything that would suggest she wasn’t alone. The results were inconclusive, but knowing Sloan, she didn’t need backup to be dangerous.
Sloan stepped forward, her boots silent on the pristine floor. She wore the same tailored corporate security attire as always, crisp and professional, but the glint in her eyes was all mischief. McPherson security is supposed to be different from the city security officer department. Why’s she here? He thought.
“Dakarai,” she drawled, tilting her head. “Didn’t expect to see you breaking into corporate property today. And here I thought you were done with all this . . . extracurricular activity.”
Fang’s hands froze over her holo-slate, eyes darting between Priest and Sloan. Hunter subtly shifted her weight, ready for things to go south. Gravel didn’t even pretend to be casual—his fingers hovered near his belt, where he had a Morkanian knife tucked under the maintenance vest.
Priest exhaled slowly. “Are you going to call this in?”
Sloan tapped her chin, pretending to consider it. “Depends. What’s in it for me?”
Priest kept his voice steady. “We walk, and you don’t get a bullet in you when things get messy.”
Sloan laughed softly. “Oh, Priest. Always so serious.” She took another step forward, dropping her voice into something almost conspiratorial. “But you know me—I’m not interested in stopping you. I’m interested in what’s behind those firewalls. And lucky for you, I know how to crack them.”
Fang’s brow furrowed. “We already have someone handling that.”
Sloan smirked. “Oh, I’m sure Vanje is doing his best. But let’s be real—corporate security is a different beast these days. You want past the deeper encryptions? You need something special. You need me.”
Priest didn’t like where this was going. “And what do you want in return?”
Sloan grinned; her crow’s feet folded together around the corners of her eyes. “Simple. A favor. No questions asked. No backing out. I’m sure Vanje asked for a similar deal.”
Gravel didn’t wait.
His instincts screamed—this wasn’t negotiation, it was a distraction. He’d seen it before, the way Sloan moved, the way her fingers subtly shifted like she was queuing up a silent alarm.
“Nope.”
He moved fast, drawing a compact pulse dart from his belt and flicking it forward. The tiny projectile buzzed past her ear, deliberately missing—but Sloan reacted, her mask slipping for just a fraction of a second.
And that was all Hunter needed.
Before Sloan could shift weight to counter, Hunter was there. No hesitation, no wasted motion—she flicked her wrist, activating a modified shockwave stunner. A near-invisible pulse rippled out, distorting the air between them in a silent whump.
Sloan barely had time to blink, only a glimpse of desperation on her face.
Her body locked up mid-step, then collapsed, her limbs going limp all at once. She hit the ground hard, sprawling like a marionette with its strings cut. Her datapad clattered beside her, screen flickering with half-typed security overrides.
Priest’s visor pinged—SECURITY ALERT: CANCELED. ACCESS PROTOCOL OVERRIDDEN.
Hunter exhaled, already stepping over Sloan’s unconscious form. “She was stalling.”
Gravel scoffed. “Obviously. Good call on the ragdoll trick, though. That’s the funniest I’ve ever seen her look.”
Fang didn’t spare Sloan a glance. She was already moving, pulling up their extraction routes. “She won’t be out forever. We need to move.”
Priest nodded, stepping around Sloan’s limp form, his visor dimming the threat marker on her. COMPROMISED ASSET—IMMOBILIZED.
“She’ll remember this,” he muttered as they started running.
Hunter snorted. “If someone did that to me, I’d hold a grudge forever.”
Fang’s fingers danced across her holo-slate, pulling up the quickest route to the secondary exit. “There’s a maintenance tunnel that feeds into the east service corridor—gets us to the roof access in three minutes if we hustle.”
Gravel was already ahead, sweeping the hallway with a quick glance. “Let’s hustle, then.”
Priest’s visor flickered with updates. SECURITY ALERTS: PARTIALLY SUPPRESSED. PROBABILITY OF REINFORCEMENTS: 72%.
Too high.
They sprinted down the sterile corridors, boots barely making a sound against the polished flooring. Hunter tapped a sequence into her wrist module, sending a false diagnostic report through the system—delaying security just a little longer.
As they rounded the corner, a metal grate came into view. Fang slid to a stop and knelt, prying it open with a quick flick of her wrist tool. “In. Now.”
One by one, they dropped into the dimly lit tunnel below. Priest was the last to descend, pulling the grate back into place just as distant footsteps echoed behind them.
The tunnel was tight, forcing them into a crouched run. The air was thick with the scent of old wiring and coolant, and faint emergency lights flickered along the edges.
Fang pulled up the schematics. “Straight ahead, ladder to the roof access in twenty meters.”
Gravel grinned. “Easy.”
Then Priest’s visor chimed.
WARNING: HOSTILE SIGNAL—REANIMATING.
Sloan was already waking up. Maybe people on this planet had a different type of tolerance to stunners, or maybe just her.
“Move now,” Priest ordered.
They pushed forward, reaching the ladder in seconds. Hunter climbed first, then Fang, then Gravel. Priest took a final glance back—his visor flashing with a proximity alert.
Sloan was fast.
Too fast.
The second he grabbed the rungs and pulled himself up, a shadow darted into the tunnel behind him.
Then he heard her voice, hoarse but filled with venom.
“You should’ve killed me.”
A sharp clink. A tracking dart hit his boot.
No time to rip it off. Climb. Move. Survive.
Gravel reached down, grabbed his arm, and yanked him through the hatch.
They burst onto the roof—blinding city lights stretching before them.
Fang didn’t hesitate. She keyed the remote beacon. “Vanje, we need pickup now.”
Sloan’s voice crackled through their comms, distorted but unmistakably amused.
“You got out. Cute. You won’t stay hidden for long. You’re on McPherson’s radar now.”
Priest exhaled. He glanced at his boot—the tracking dart still glowing faintly. He removed it and threw it out.
They’d gotten away.