Veridian was stuck in the Cinder's tiny cell. It was basically a coffin, with thick, gray stuff that ate up all sound and blocked Arc energy. Elara was right next door, her blue field casting a dim glow on the floor.
Veridian didn't give a damn about the cell. She was worried about Captain Lyra.
Lyra showed up at the cell block and waved off the guards. She had a data pad and looked super serious while tapping on it.
Garth, the engineer, is okay. Jia, my medic, says he's gonna live, but he'll be out of it for the trip, Lyra said, leaning against Veridian's cell bars. He got lucky. Not many live through an Arc blast like that.
He's tough. Also, my best engineer, Veridian said, staying chill despite the tight space. You're taking us to the mainland. You know that's a death wish for me, and dissection time for the machine.
Your death wish is the Directorate's problem, not mine, Lyra said, all business. I have a schedule and Arc parts that could blow any second. You being here puts my payday at risk.
Then let's fix it, Veridian said, standing up. You know me, Lyra. I get stuff done unless something comes up. The Directorate bought that the Manifest data is bad—they found that out because I messed with the Reef's system.
Lyra narrowed her eyes, showing a bit of interest. The report came in fast. Good job, Captain. You used their intel against them. But that says you've gone rogue.
It says the Directorate is shady, Veridian said. Think about it, Lyra. The Manifest—first research on the Anti-Abacus—is the key. The Directorate didn't send a recovery team to the Reef; they sent killers. They wanted Elara and the Manifest dead, not studied.
Lyra scoffed. They want to be in charge. Always.
They want to shut things down, Veridian said, pressing on. The Directorate stays in charge by controlling Arc tech. The Anti-Abacus, the Manifest, means Arc power that's free—a way to be free. That's why they want her scrapped, not used.
Veridian waited for Lyra to show something. They used to be friends, always rivals. Lyra really thought the Syndicate's order was right, but she was also tired of the Directorate's BS.
We both know the Directorate is falling apart, Lyra, Veridian's voice softened. You hate the paperwork. You hate how they control stuff. You built the Cinder to be fast, not a garbage truck for a bad system. If you hand us over, you're giving them a shot to kill Arc tech and keep their power.
Lyra stopped tapping the data pad. She looked at Elara's cell.
You're asking me to turn traitor, Veridian, Lyra said, her eyes blank. I move cargo, I don't start stuff.
I'm asking you to protect what's yours, Veridian said. The Syndicate is about to split. The Manifest is what's next. Help me get out, and you're betting on the winning side. You turn the Cinder into your flagship, and you get a piece of the new world the Anti-Abacus will make.
Lyra stood there, looking at the floor. She was thinking it all through. Veridian's point made sense, with Lyra loving to get stuff done and hating the Directorate's slow downfall.
Lyra finally said, The Cinder's steering is leaking. It's small, but it's getting worse. If I don't stop soon, I could have a big failure, Lyra said, implying Garth messed with the ship, but not saying so. I'll have to stop for two hours in the Dead Zone—twelve hours from now. That's your chance, Veridian. Not mine.
Lyra looked at Veridian. If I find anything—anything off, any rule-breaking, or changes to the Cinder's data before that stop—I'm venting this cell block into the ocean, no questions asked. Then I'll finish my delivery and get the reward for taking out a rogue and her machine. You have twelve hours to show me that your way is better.
Lyra left, leaving Veridian with little time, a tough choice, and the feeling that Lyra was watching.