The underground relay vault was sealed three levels below Zodiac's decommissioned cartography wing — a corridor of memory arteries, obsolete and silent.
Few remembered its purpose.
Fewer remembered it existed.
The door sighed open after three failed attempts, yielding at last not to force, but to patience. Dust trembled in the stale air, lit by flickering overhead strips that hadn't held a full charge in years. The cold smelled of recycled air, oxide, and memory decay — the particular silence of places too proud to ask for use.
The technician moved with deliberate stillness.
Plain civilian coat. No insignia. No issued purpose.
She hadn't been assigned here. She couldn't explain why she'd come. Only that she'd followed a gap in the maintenance routing — a dead spot on the new network's registry. A zone that didn't fail — just wasn't counted anymore.
