They dashed along the ledge, boots scraping slick steel. Ahead, a maintenance catwalk connected the arcology to an adjacent megablock apartment tower. If they could reach that and disappear into the warren of the undercity, they might lose the pursuit.
A gunshot cracked the air. A round zinged off the metal just behind Lyra, and she stumbled. Jax looped an arm around her waist, practically hauling her forward. The spotlight fixed on them, bathing them in blinding white. Another shot rang out, then the staccato burst of an automatic rifle. Bullets sparked off the wall as they ran.
Jax turned and fired a few shots from his pistol toward the light—aiming not so much to hit as to make the shooter duck. In the brief darkness, they reached the catwalk. Jax shoved Lyra ahead of him onto the creaking lattice of metal. It swayed under their weight as they sprinted across.
Lyra's breath burned in her lungs. She clutched the railing for balance and chanced a look back. A trio of security officers had reached the hatch, silhouetted against the floodlights, preparing to follow. One raised a rifle.
"Go, go!" Jax urged, pushing her along.
They were nearly across. Lyra could see the other side—the apartment tower's maintenance door hanging ajar. Freedom was steps away.
The rifle muzzle flashed. Lyra felt a searing line of pain slice across her calf. She cried out and faltered, her leg buckling. At the same time, the catwalk shuddered. The aging bolts anchoring it to the arcology wall, weakened by stray gunfire, gave a tortured screech.
Jax lunged, grabbing Lyra as the catwalk lurched downward on one side. With a metallic shriek, the section behind them sheared away, sending two of the pursuing guards plummeting into the night. The remaining guard skidded to a halt on the arcology side, windmilling arms for balance on the now truncated ledge.
Jax didn't slow. He half-dragged, half-carried Lyra the last few steps to solid ground as the catwalk continued to collapse behind them. They tumbled through the open door into darkness while the final piece of the catwalk ripped free and fell, taking the lone guard with it. His fading scream was lost in the city noise below.
Inside the apartment block, it was pitch black and stank of mildew and old trash. Lyra's leg throbbed where the bullet had grazed her, and her entire body was trembling from adrenaline and exhaustion. But they were alive.
Jax pulled the door shut and jammed a broken pipe through the handles. He clicked on a light on his visor, illuminating a narrow hallway with peeling paint and graffiti tags. Water dripped somewhere.
"You okay?" he whispered, kneeling next to Lyra. The visor's greenish glow lit the concern on his face.
Lyra nodded shakily, inspecting her calf. The bullet had only grazed muscle—painful but not crippling. More blood, another scar, but she'd manage. "I'll live," she managed a weak grin. "Thanks to you."
Jax gave a half-smile in return and squeezed her shoulder. "Let's keep it that way. Come on. I have a safe place nearby."
Supporting Lyra with one arm, Jax guided her through a labyrinth of corridors and down a couple flights of cracked concrete stairs. Twice they heard distant commotion—likely corp troops trying to find a way down—but the old megablock was a world of its own, a place even corporate enforcers were wary to enter without cause.
They emerged into an open lot behind the building. Under the sickly yellow glare of a lone streetlamp sat a battered auto-cab, the kind from a decade ago. Jax helped Lyra into the back seat. It smelled of old vinyl and engine grease.
"Borrowed this from some gangers," Jax said as he slid into the driver's seat and hot-wired the ignition. "Couldn't risk a licensed vehicle that can be traced."
The auto-cab's engine whirred to life, a quiet electric hum. Jax manually steered it out onto a side street. Lyra sank back into the seat, finally allowing herself a deep breath. Outside, neon signs and towering holo-ads reflected through the cracked window. The city beyond the arcology was awake with activity even at this late hour—vendors at all-night markets, silhouettes of street hustlers, flickering ad-drones flitting overhead. After the claustrophobic hell of the black site, even the polluted city air felt freeing.
Lyra touched the back of her neck where a small port was embedded—her neural implant interface. It felt hot to the touch, and when she brushed it, a static crackle popped in her ears. She winced. The damn thing was acting up worse than ever. Possibly from the EMP device she set off during the raid, or from jacking into the arcology's network without adequate protection. Or maybe it was what she saw in there... the data she stole.
A foggy fragment of memory surfaced: she had connected to a terminal looking for any reference to Noel. There was a file... encrypted. She had initiated a download just as everything went haywire. Did she complete it?
Lyra patted her jacket and felt the hard outline of a data shard in her inner pocket. Relief washed over her. They didn't risk everything for nothing. "Jax," she said, her voice still hoarse. "I got something from their system. An encrypted data shard. It might have info on Noel or Project MANTIS. I'm not sure what exactly, but it's got to be important."
Jax glanced at her in the rearview mirror. "Music to Eris's ears, I'm sure. She was going crazy on comms when your biometrics went dark. Now at least we have something to show for all this."
Lyra managed a small, tired laugh that turned into a cough. The adrenaline was ebbing, leaving her limbs leaden.
They had infiltrated a Prysm-Sek black site and lived. Barely. Noel was still out there somewhere, and this data shard might be the key to finding him. But the corporation would stop at nothing now to hunt them down.
As if reading her thoughts, Jax spoke softly, "They'll be looking for us. But they won't find us tonight." He guided the cab into a narrow alley, parking behind a derelict warehouse out of sight. "We switch vehicles here."
Lyra roused herself and saw he'd brought them to a junkyard. Jax helped her out of the cab. He moved aside a stack of tires to reveal a garage door, then rolled it up. Inside was a small hideout—just a concrete room with a cot, some crates, and another vehicle under a tarp. He flicked on a single dangling light bulb.
The moment the light came on, a sleek black cat perched atop a crate leapt down and darted into the shadows. Lyra's heart rate finally began to settle, knowing they had a haven, however temporary. She recognized this place. It was one of Jax's bolt-holes from back in their merc days—off the grid and stocked for emergencies.
Jax gestured to the cot. "Sit. Let's patch you up properly."