Going from the burnt-up Cinder thing to the Silent Collective's mobile base was a trip! The air smelled like ozone and old water—way better than the Syndicate's gross, metal smell.
We were crammed into this small, locked room—like a souped-up deep-sea lab with decent stealth tech. Raya, the serious Interceptor tech head, grabbed our weapons (and locked up the Manifest fast) and split us up.
The boss took Veridian for questioning (basically, a beatdown). Garth, barely able to walk, ended up in the tiny Engineering Bay—a cramped spot with a junky fusion generator and a messy workbench.
Elara was passed out on a welding table. The Anti-Abacus light was off, and her metal shell felt dull and cold. She looked like a broken statue.
I. Basic Gear
Garth was bent over on a stool, his arm in a makeshift sling. Jia, Lyra's medic, did a good job patching him up, but his nerves still hurt like hell. He was on meds but needed to think straight, so he skipped his next dose.
Raya walked in and dropped a beat-up toolbox on the bench. You're the engineer. That machine is important. Our sensors say it's putting out nothing—hidden from the Directorate, but useless to us," she said, sounding sketched out.
I need to check it. Arc whozits, a dampener, and a good power cable, Garth said, touching Elara's casing.
Raya pointed at the toolbox. That's it. We're the Silent Collective. We're broke. That box has some meters, a rusty wrench, some wire, and a weak battery. If you need power, grab it from the main generator, but don't screw with the stealth field. Our lives depend on being quiet.
Garth winced. He wanted good tools, but Raya gave him trash.
The real problem was power.
Elara was offline because she'd used all her juice to stop the Core's blast, draining her dry. She needed a trickle charge to restart the Anti-Abacus and protect the Manifest data inside.
Using the main generator was risky. A power surge would give them away fast.
He needed to set up a stable, silent power thingie.
Garth stared at the workbench. He pulled out the wire. It was rusty and poorly shielded – useless for power. He grabbed the meters. They were okay for measuring stuff.
He started turning the junk into something useful.
First, he took apart the meters and pulled out their coils—thin wires for measurements. He slowly unwound the wires with a rusty nail, which was tough with one good hand.
Next, he grabbed the battery. It was for a floodlight. He needed to clean up its junky power into something stable.
He used the wires to make a coil around the battery. Coils made magnetic fields, but Garth used it to clean up the power, making it stable, even if it wasn't strong.
Raya watched, eyes glazed over. You're wasting time. We don't have any.
I'm making a filter. The Anti-Abacus needs a tiny spark, not a jolt, Garth said, sounding focused.
Finally, he needed to send the power to Elara without wiring it straight in. He took the lens from the floodlight and stuck it to a wire. He'd made a thing that could send power through a small field.
He put it on Elara's casing, over the charging port. He'd turned junk into a silent charger.
Okay, now we wait, Garth said, plugging it in. This will take hours.
II. Protecting the Manifest
Raya stood there, not trusting him. If that machine has a Directorate tracker, you're dead, engineer. We don't risk the Collective.
"It has the Manifest—the key to beating the Directorate's control. Elara wiped that tracking trash when she stopped the Cinder's Core," Garth said, watching the light on his filter blink.
Garth was locked in. He felt power go into Elara's system. He kept an eye on things, ready to kill the power if something went wrong.
As energy flowed, Garth felt something weird—a barely there feeling.
He was getting data.
Not a voice, just fast blips from the Manifest, leaking into his head.
Too much: equations, mapping, and a loop of code that said: ERROR. MANIFEST DATA: 99.98%.
The Manifest was checking itself through him.
Inside the code was a message: NOW.
Getting out messed things up. Elara had broken the Cinder's geometry, and her system would stay jacked up until it was fixed.
Garth knew that if Elara started up without fixing it, she could lose the Manifest info or blow up.
The restart needed to be handled carefully.
He had to get the word to Veridian ASAP.
Garth looked at Raya, who was checking out the wire. He couldn't talk, but he could send a message.
He taped the meters to his arm.
Raya raised an eyebrow. What's that?
Nerve thing, Garth lied. The pain meds mess with my hands. This... helps me focus.
He was really making a simple transmitter.
III. Sending a Message
Garth got to work on the transmitter. He knew the Engineering Bay was vented into the observation deck—where Veridian was getting grilled.
He needed to send a signal that wasn't electronic or sound, just a small shake.
He linked the meters on his arm with the wire, running it to a small exhaust port in the workbench. Using the wire to make small waves.
Then, he tapped the generator, hard enough to send a vibration.
The vibration went to the observation deck through the ship.
Garth tapped a rhythm:
Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap.
He did it for a bit, thinking about the code: geometries.
This was for Veridian—a Syndicate person. In the Syndicate, that heart thing meant: Problem/I'm in control.
Garth hoped Veridian would know he was talking about the Manifest.
He kept charging Elara, watching the light.
Raya watched him, hand near her piece. Stop tapping the generator, or you'll have issues.
Garth stopped. He couldn't fight. He'd sent it.
If Veridian reacted quick, she could cause a scene and buy him the hour he needed. Or else, the restart could wreck the Manifest and screw everyone.
Elara was silent, her power waiting. The war depended on a hurt engineer and a spy, talking through metal taps.
IV. The Game
In the observation room, Veridian was talking to Anya, the Collective's scarred leader. The room was dim, showing the dark ocean.
Anya paced. Your story is good, Captain Veridian, but you were the Syndicate's best agent. Why should we trust you?
Veridian was tired but stayed strong. The Syndicate blew it, Anya. I'm here for the Manifest. It can break the Directorate's control.
Veridian felt this.
Tap-tap. Tap-tap. Tap-tap.
Garth. The signal was from below.
Anya saw her. Something wrong, Captain? Getting cold feet?
It's the ship, Veridian lied. Your field could be better. I'm feeling stuff from the engine.
My people are on it, Anya said, moving closer. The truth, Captain. You gave us the machine, but not its code. Tell us why we should belive you.
Veridian knew she had to jump on Garth's message and get down there.
You want proof, Anya? Veridian said, sounding sure. I can tell you why this is failing.
Veridian slammed her fist on the table, copying Garth's signal.
The machine isn't dead. It's messed up. Your engineer is going to wreck this machine!
Anya's eyes widened. Raya! Check the Engineering Bay! Don't let the engineer touch the generator!
Veridian had made a scene.
I'm the only one who knows the machine. Take me to the bay, or things go bad, Veridian challenged.
Anya nodded. Fine, Captain. Let's have it. Mess this up, and I guarantee you will fall.
It would go down there.