The team traveled for about two weeks before reaching the edge of the scavenger-patrolled zone. We settled a few days earlier in a small desert town. Well, calling it "small" was an exaggeration. The place crammed more than a million people into a chaos that defied all logic.

—Almost forty thousand people per square meter —commented Yalen, whom I had nicknamed "Melena" due to his total lack of hair, the shine of an implant glinting under the dim light—. The infrastructure is held together with duct tape. There’s no presence from the central government, the great families, or even the corporations. What the hell are all these people doing here?

—Not everyone wants to live under the yoke of the great families and corporations. Some prefer simpler lives —I replied, observing the scene from a nearby hill.

—I wouldn’t exactly call this "living."

—Neither would I —I admitted, letting my gaze wander over the crowded streets and makeshift buildings—. It probably has a lot to do with the scavenger base. It’s like a wasp’s nest for this region… one we’re about to shake up.

—Do you think we’ll cause trouble for these people, sir? —he asked, his tone a mix of genuine concern and pragmatism.

—I don’t think so. I’m certain. Once we strike and get out, they’ll lash out at anything that moves in this area.

—I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to these people... They’ve been kind enough to let us buy supplies.

—Kind? They’re scalping us. Those bastards nearly harvested a kidney for a box of rations.

—Well, yes, but still… —he said, his voice trailing off into the distant bustle of the town.

I smiled faintly. Though he sometimes seemed naïve, Melena had a heart that didn’t quite fit this type of mission.

—Relax, Melena. That’s just life here. If something happens, it’ll happen with or without us. It’s better if we strike first. Who knows? With a bit of luck, we’ll hit them so hard they won’t get back up.

—Hey, Melena, your kids are looking for you. They’re excited about something they found —one of the gunmen shouted.

Melena just sighed and left, already resigned to his new nickname.

—Kailen, the boss is looking for you. He wants to discuss the plan.

—Tell him we still don’t have enough intel. Once Reika and Toshi return, we’ll have more information about the surroundings, and only then can we draw up a plan.

The young man nodded and walked away, disappearing from view. Just a few minute after another one of the techies hurried over.

—Mr. Kailen, one of my colleagues is having trouble with the locals. Could you…?

—Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it —I said before he could finish.

I grabbed my gear and followed the young man.

The streets were filled with stares. The people, ragged and hungry, turned to watch us as we passed. Their clothes were rags, their faces bore the marks of a hard life, but their eyes… Their eyes had a fire I hadn’t seen elsewhere. These people hadn’t yet given up on life. They were ready to bite, and that made them dangerous.

We finally arrived at a dingy tavern, where the problem quickly became evident. However, what truly surprised me was the source of the conflict.

—Don’t mess with me, Old Tom! If you sell him all the grag, how the hell are we going to buy alcohol? We’ll have to wait months for the next batch!

—And I’m telling you I don’t give a damn about your needs! —growled the bartender, whose old age didn’t dull his firm stance—. My daughter needs medicine, and this outsider is paying far more than any of you damn cockroaches could scrape together in years!

—The hell I’m letting you do that! I’d rather kill the brat myself than live without—

He didn’t get to finish. The moment he mentioned the bartender’s daughter, Old Tom pulled out a gun and shot him square in the head, the crack of the weapon silencing the room.

—Anyone else want to try their luck? Anyone? ANYONE? —he shouted, his eyes scanning the room, his gun still smoking.

The rest of the men, who seconds ago stood behind the now-dead troublemaker, quickly picked up the body and scurried out of the tavern. The remaining patrons were soon ushered out as well by the bartender, who had clearly run out of patience.

—You too. Out —he finally said, turning his attention toward us.

—We’re with the bald guy —I replied, hoping to defuse the situation.

The bartender turned his sharp gaze to Melena, who nodded silently. Only then did he lower his gun, though the distrust in his eyes lingered.

The transaction proceeded without further incident. Soon after, Melena and his assistant carried out a couple of crates filled with bottles of liquor, and we left the tavern.

—What did you buy in there, Melena? —I asked as we walked—. What could possibly be worth someone dying over?

—Oh, I didn’t really want anyone to die —he replied, clearly uncomfortable.

—I know. Just tell me what the hell this is.

Melena paused to clear his throat, gesturing to one of the crates with a somewhat prideful air, as though the bottles inside were more valuable than they seemed.

—Well, it’s a long story...

—Make it short.

—Right, yes —he said, hesitating for a moment before continuing.

He sighed, brushing the top of one of the crates with a strange fondness, as though he were explaining a rare treasure.

If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

—Okay, short version, even though this really deserves a proper lecture. These bottles contain a liquor distilled from the juice of an alien plant that only grows in certain contaminated areas of the Pits. The plant is called Xilenopsis. The main compound in the liquor is something called xilenonate, a complex molecule with some very unusual properties.

—What’s so special about it? —I asked, though I was already bracing for a lengthy explanation.

—Xilenonate has a triple point —the balance between its solid, liquid, and gaseous states—that’s just above the ambient temperature of this region. That means once it’s properly distilled and sealed, the liquid stays stable. But if you expose it to even a minor fluctuation in temperature or pressure, it can shift states instantly.

—And why does that matter?

—It matters because, when it shifts from liquid to gas, it releases an enormous amount of thermal energy in an exothermic process. Basically, it’s an alcohol that can warm you up from the inside—or, if you’re an idiot, turn you into a human torch.

—Sounds like something we shouldn’t drink.

—Exactly. But the locals have developed a very specific chemical process to neutralize some of its volatility. They use something called axiphenol hydrate—a catalyst that stabilizes the xilenonate molecule in the liquor. The result is a drinkable alcohol that’s also highly energetic.

—Highly energetic?

—Yes, although the human body can’t metabolize it on its own, people here have found ways to make it work, allowing them to generate more energy than usual. That’s why this liquor is so valuable in the Pits. Here, people need calories and energy more than they care about flavor. But they also use it as an improvised fuel for basic devices like heaters or small turbines.

I stared at him, processing the information.

—Let me guess: that’s why you were so eager to pay for it. You’ve just left this whole sector without their supply.

Melena smiled and nodded.

—Exactly. It’s more expensive to produce than you’d think, mostly because of the awful environmental costs of the rudimentary methods we use. If only we had access to the pilgrims’ techniques.

—By the way, could we drink this to recover energy during the mission?

—No.

—...

—I mean it. The locals probably use modified enzymes to metabolize it. Their bodies have adapted over time. That’s why you see so many injecting themselves. It’s not just for addiction or fun; it’s to prepare. Without those modifications, you’d likely poison yourself—or worse, something inside you could literally explode.

My chemistry classes were a bit rusty after two years away from the academy. Still, what Melena explained made sense, so I decided to let him handle it.

Fine, if it wasn’t safe, it wasn’t safe. I quickly jotted down a note in my journal, attaching the information to the map and marking this place. After that, I returned to where we were staying. All that was left to do was wait.

Finally, the two women came back with information about our target.

—Alright, gentlemen —said Reika, the big, muscular woman, addressing the group with her usual energy. Then she turned to one of the techs and, in a softer tone, added—: And boy.

She seemed to be enjoying herself, teasing him.

—We’ve got the info on the roaches’ base. Just as we were told, it’s a real fortress. Built out of scraps, rusty metal, and, of course, lots of duct tape.

She paused theatrically, clearly pleased with her description.

—There are at least seven entry points we could sneak through. Plus, we found three potential distractions nearby that we can use. That said, for obvious reasons, we couldn’t confirm the VIP’s status.

—From the information we managed to gather, the roaches are preparing to leave in about two days. We don’t know when we’ll get another opportunity like this, —added Toshi, the slimmer woman.

Everyone turned to look at me, waiting for my decision.

—I’d love to have more time to plan something more solid, but we’re already drawing too much attention, and we’ve only been here three days. It’s better to act as quickly as possible, —I replied to their stares.

—I don’t feel good about rushing the plan this much. In the end, we’ll be the ones holding the line, —grumbled the punk, crossing his arms in obvious displeasure.

—And it’ll be me and the brains doing the infiltrating, —I shot back, making it clear no one would just be sitting around. My tone betrayed my irritation at his implication.

Taking into account all the information we had—what we already knew, what we’d discovered in the town, and what they’d just brought back—I finally put together a plan. It wasn’t perfect, but an aggressive, incomplete plan now was far better than an ideal one a week too late.

—Alright, here’s what we’re going to do. We’ll split into several teams. First, your six light units will head to this point: the nearby cobalt mine. You’ll remain on standby there. When you get the signal, you’ll attack and free the prisoners doing forced labor. That’ll serve as a distraction, forcing most of the enemy troops to respond, —I explained to the punk, marking the location on the map.

—The other six heavy units, along with me and the brains, will sneak in. Once inside, we’ll split up. Melena and I will head straight to the underground entrance. The other three techs will move to their targets: the central office, the control room, and the security room. Each of them will be accompanied by two of you. Your mission will be to hack the systems and use the defenses against the scrappers. This has to be coordinated to happen right after the troops move toward the mine.

I paused to let everyone absorb the information before continuing.

—From what we know, the scrappers have a significant number of prisoners in the underground facilities. Melena and I will try to free them to cause as much chaos as possible and cover our backs. According to the blueprints Chitosane provided, it should take us 12 minutes to go straight down, taking all the stairs. Since we don’t know if all of them are still operational, we’ll assume it’ll take 30 minutes.

I pointed to another area on the map.

—At this point, you’ll use the V2 charges to blow the south wall. From there, you’ll travel to regroup with the team at the mine and then continue east to reach our transports.

I looked at the group, waiting for their reactions.

—Any questions or suggestions? —I asked at the end, leaving room for possible adjustments.

They took a few moments to digest the plan. Finally, several hands went up.

—Why do we need to take the central office? —asked one of the brains, curiosity evident in his voice.

—It’s one of the secondary objectives. There should be information marked as Project BlueSky there. Plus, I’m hoping you’ll find a way to free the underground prisoners without Melena and me having to improvise. Of course, any other useful intel you find will be more than welcome, —I replied firmly.

—And what about the gorillas? —interjected one of the veteran gunslingers.

—Nothing. They’ll stay in the town. We’ll pick them up during our escape.

The murmurs of protest weren’t long in coming, especially from the gunslingers. It was clear they didn’t like the idea, but there wasn’t much to argue about. It was better to keep those monstrosities out of this mission.

—What about the Seven Shots? —asked another voice from the back.

—The scrappers have a sixth-generation Titan. Even though it’s junk from before the Fall, it’s still a dangerous weapon that could wipe out our people if it’s allowed to operate. According to general intel, it should have two weak points: one at the cockpit-leg junction and another in the fuel injection system. However, that’s generic information. I need you to stay alert and identify how to neutralize it on the ground. If we’re lucky, the team might gather more precise data and send it to you before you act. Once it’s neutralized, you’ll have a clear path to eliminate any other priority targets.

—Do we really have to use the prisoners as human shields? —asked Melena, his tone full of doubt and discontent.

I looked him directly in the eyes.

—I don’t have any other options. There are 11 of us infiltrating, and four of us don’t fight. Meanwhile, on the other side, there are over 700 enemies. Even if half of them leave in two days, and of those remaining, only half respond to the threat at the mine, that still leaves us with 175 enemies in the base.

The weight of my words fell like a slab on the atmosphere. No one replied. There was no way to sugarcoat the reality: we were outnumbered, out-equipped, and outgunned. But not outwilled or outstrategized, and that was an advantage we had to exploit to the fullest.

There were a few minor adjustments to the plan, but the essence remained intact. I didn’t know if it was because they genuinely thought it was solid or because no one wanted to shoulder the responsibility of a potential failure. I didn’t care much. Of everyone present, I was the only one whose interests weren’t purely economic.

The only thing left was to find Kan in time. With some luck, my stratagem would work.