They huddled in the shadow of the foundry's crucible, hearts hammering against their ribs. The warm, pulsating vial felt like a live coal in Sage's grip. Below them, the earth gave one final, groaning shudder, then fell silent.
"He contained it," Valentine breathed, more statement than question. She was inspecting her boot. The synth-leather was eaten through to the mesh lining, which was fused into a hard, brittle crust. Her foot was unscathed, but the evidence was stark. "That mist… it doesn't just break things. It transmutes them."
Sage could only nod, staring at the vial. The silver light within had calmed to a sullen, rhythmic throb. Proof. Lysander was right. This wasn't just polluted water. It was reality itself, sick and twisted.
"We can't take this to our homes," Valentine said, her practical mind reasserting control through the adrenaline. "Syndicate scanners at the Sector gate will detect an unlogged energy signature this potent. It'll be a beacon."
"Where, then?"
She thought for a moment. "The old public climatology archive. Sub-level two. It's been sealed since the Desiccation. Its shielding was designed to contain atmospheric sensors. It might contain this."
It was a risk. But every option was a risk now. The routine was obliterated.
They moved through the derelict sectors like ghosts, avoiding the Vitae-powered glow of inhabited zones. The archive was a squat, windowless bunker of a building, its door sealed with a physical bolt, rusted shut. Sage used a piece of rebar to lever it open with a shriek of metal.
Inside, it was a tomb of dead technology. Consoles sat under sheets of dust. Valentine went straight to a heavy cabinet marked Atmospheric Isolation – Active Sample Storage. It was a massive thing with a manual wheel-seal. Together, they strained against it. With a reluctant groan, it broke its vacuum seal and opened.
Cold, dry air puffed out. Inside were racks lined with lead-glass cylinders.
Sage placed the corrupted vial into an empty slot and sealed the cabinet. The throbbing light vanished, contained. He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
"Temporary," Valentine said, wiping her hands. "We need a plan. Not a spontaneous next step. A plan."
Sage looked around the dead archive. "We need to understand what this substance does. Not just that it's corrupt. How. We need a lab they don't monitor."
Valentine's eyes fell on a particular console. "Air particulate analysis. It's offline, but the spectrograph chamber is a contained environment. We could jury-rig a power source…"
For the first time since the tunnel, a spark of their old synergy returned. Not just maintenance, but investigation. On their own terms.