The corridor stretched ahead like a collapsing lung—lights flickering, smoke drifting through broken vents, the hum of failing systems echoing like dying breaths. Julius moved with purpose, Captain Brinley unconscious in his arms, and the Echelon suit guiding every step with micro-adjustments to keep them balanced despite the unstable footing.
"Warning," Echelon said in that same level voice. "Life signs detected—non-human. Movement intercept course: 400 meters and closing."
Julius cursed under his breath. "Hostiles?"
"Unknown configuration. Minimal electromagnetic signature. Likely stealth-class autonomous drones."
"More of those spider things?"
"Negative. This one is different. Heavier. Older."
Julius's jaw tightened as he approached a junction, watching the green-lit path Echelon projected vanish into a hall to the left. His instincts pulled him the other way—toward a sealed armory hatch etched with the mercenary unit's insignia: a red skull wrapped in circuitry.
"Access that door," he said.
"You are veering off the safe route," Echelon warned.
"I don't care. If there's anything left in that armory, we'll need it."
A few sparks danced from the keypad as the suit interfaced. The lock clicked. The door groaned open, revealing the dark chamber inside—bare racks, blown-out lockers, shattered weapons, but tucked in the corner, secured behind a half-melted blast shield, was a crate marked ARCHAIUM CLEARANCE ONLY.
Julius's breath caught. "That's yours, isn't it?"
"Yes," Echelon said, its voice sounding almost… reverent. "I was not the only prototype. But I was the only one to survive."
He laid Brinley gently on a crate, then stepped toward the sealed cache. The suit reacted to proximity, tendrils reaching from his fingertips, syncing with the biometric locks. The case clicked and hissed open, revealing a single black cylinder glowing with blue veins.
"What is it?" Julius asked.
"A signal core," Echelon answered. "It connects to the network."
"What network?"
But before the answer could come, the lights went out. Total darkness swallowed the room.
Then came the click.
Metal on metal. Legs dragging across the floor. Breathing that wasn't breathing—an artificial rasp that set Julius's nerves on fire.
"Contact," Echelon warned. "Visuals offline. Switching to thermal."
A flash of red overlaid Julius's vision. A tall, hunched figure stood just outside the armory entrance, its body gleaming like oil and obsidian, long appendages trailing across the ground, each tipped with rotating saws and injectors.
"What the hell is that?"
"Designation: Hunter-Class Exterminator Unit. Archaium model. It should not be active."
"Well, it is," Julius growled.
The creature lunged.
Julius dove, shielding Brinley as the Hunter's bladed limbs slammed into the ground beside them. The impact cratered the floor. Julius rolled, drawing a weapon that was no longer there—but Echelon responded instantly.
"Deploying phase blades."
From Julius's wrists, two curved plasma knives extended, buzzing with energy. He ducked beneath a sweeping limb, slashed upward, severing one of the Hunter's appendages. Sparks sprayed. The thing screamed—a horrible digital wail—and charged again.
"Too fast," Julius muttered.
"I can assist," Echelon said. "Engaging neural sync acceleration. Warning: This will strain your mind."
"Do it!"
A sudden snap—like lightning behind his eyes. Time slowed. The Hunter's next swing dragged through the air like molasses. Julius stepped inside the strike, drove his blade upward into the creature's core. Heat and light exploded around him.
The sync dropped. Julius staggered back, vision swimming. The Hunter collapsed in pieces, twitching.
"Sync efficiency: 67%," Echelon noted. "You handled it better than expected."
"I feel like my brain's on fire," Julius gasped.
"Pain will pass. Integration deepens."
Julius grabbed the signal core and turned back to the captain, who was beginning to stir again. "We need to get to that launch bay."
"Agreed," Echelon said. "But know this: activating the core may alert others—others like that Hunter. They're dormant, scattered, hidden across the stars."
"What's it sending?" Julius asked, slipping the core into a slot on the suit's back.
"A signal. A beacon. A call to every other symbiote that ever existed."
Julius frowned, a cold chill rising in his spine. "What if they answer?"
Echelon's pause was long.
"Then the galaxy changes forever."