Page 54 of Scion

“I think outmatched is the wrong word,” I say indignantly as the sound of rending steel screams into the tunnel from behind me. “It just arrived a little earlier than I thought. This is a planned, tactical retreat.”

“I would tactically retreat a little faster, if I were you. That door’s not holding.”

“Yeah, yeah.” I quicken to a jog.

The Loop pod is, thankfully, waiting exactly where it should be. Another win for my eidetic cogs: I was able to recall the codes Jasa used to activate the system from the other end, and had the foresight to get it ready for use before the DNA wash wore off. The internal logs indicate that repairs are ongoing near the house, but are complete enough that the journey back should be safe.

Probably.

“Were you the one who altered the code, when we arrived? To send our container to the incinerator instead of storage?” I ask as I step inside.

“What? Of course not. You know I wouldn’t have done something you could get out of so easily.” She’s offended. “That was helpful, though. They had me looking for you, and the on-net sensors in the tunnels were just enough to flag that you’d gone to Themis.”

I sigh. So Jasa’s recode was really just that sloppy. “Well, can we please make sure that there are no similar surprises on this trip?” I secure the door, buckle in, and start tapping the confirmation code into the pad on the wall.

Through the glass, a hundred metres away, I see the steel door to the lab finally shatter from its hinges.

“Uh, Azure?”

“I see it.” The Dupe is bounding toward us. Teeth bared, like an animal. Eyes locked on me through the window. I tap the last digits, and the screen glows green in acceptance. My copy’s about thirty metres away now.

I very deliberately raise both hands to the window, and wave goodbye.

The capsule slams into motion, and the Dupe’s gone from sight.

THE POD FIRES THROUGH THE Loop tunnel in a vacuum-induced calm. I sit, hunched forward in the cool fluorescence. Staring at the vial of clear liquid, smoky black tendrils drifting through it, in my hand. Atti can’t see it. No cams in here.

“Azure? You there?”

“Yeah.” I roll the vial between my fingers. “Just thinking.”

“About how confident you are in this whole plan, right?” I don’t say anything. “Right?”

“Sure. Listen, I’m going to tap off for the trip, I think. About a half hour or so.”

“Bored of me already?”

“I wouldn’t say bored.”

“Fine,” she huffs. “Anything you want me to do?”

“Just monitor the chatter.” I’m increasingly sure the Dupe is off script and hasn’t told the Keres what’s going on, but better to be sure.

“Yeah. Okay.”

I tap the q-com in my ear, and let the soft hum of the pod’s progress be the only sound for a while. Just watching those dark wisps float.

Then I unseal the nostrum, and down it.

I replace the cap carefully and slip the vial back in my pocket. Sit there and wait amidst the hush. This is the only type of nostrum I’ve ever taken. “Deep,” it’s called. Not a popular one; the regulars at Sanctum wouldn’t have even heard of it. Verity had to go through three different suppliers just to find someone who would make it, when I finally told her what I wanted.

I know it’s starting to take effect because that period after Oceanus, after I’d just been relocated, is the first thing I always think about. I was aware of Sanctum, of course. Everyone was. But I’d never been there, never really thought about going. Just happenstance, that I was chasing down information on a lifer there, less than six months after I’d started back.

Everything leading up to that had felt so… flat. Not bad. Bad would have been okay. Bad would have made sense. I’d been friends with Landry and I never shed a tear for him. Not for him, and not for the tens of thousands of other innocent people who died because I didn’t do my job well enough. At first I thought it was shock, after they told me. And then I thought it was some sort of dissociation, like my brain couldn’t get past the denial stage of grief.

And then, eventually, I just had to accept that I didn’t feel any especially profound sadness over it.

It was after that realisation that I went back to work. Before the bombing, I’d never enjoyed what I was doing, but it was legal and I had the skills for it and it kept me off Basic. If it wasn’t me, it would have been someone else. And the lifers were all greedy and knew, they knew, what they were bringing down on their heads. They signed the warrants for their own executions, every time.