Beneath the Spire's jurisdiction, in the humid, irradiated shadow of the Undercity, Dr. Rena Sol moved with constant vigilance. She was clad in layers of patched, functional armor, her former life as a lead NuCore physicist reduced to grim determination. She commanded a small resistance unit, the "Echoes," remnants of the scientific community who refused to bow to NuCore's corporate tyranny.
"We move now. The hourly patrol rotation is due," Rena instructed, her voice low through encrypted comms. "Jax, keep the back door open. This is strictly a retrieval mission."
"Understood, Rena. But the power fluctuations are insane down here. One surge and your optical dampeners fry," Jax, their tech specialist, hissed back.
Rena led the way into the derelict NuCore Data Silo 3, a structure shielded by pre-Rift protocols that Darkford had overlooked.
She disabled two antiquated proximity sensors with a precise pulse from her EMP emitter. Ahead lay the core server farm—a vast, echoing cavern of silent machines.
She inserted a custom-built, bio-encrypted drive, using her obsolete Alpha-Prime credentials. The screen recognized her instantly.
ACCESS GRANTED: DR. R. SOL. AUTH LEVEL: ALPHA-PRIME.
She navigated the encrypted directories, locating the files labeled Project Chimera. Geological projections and seismic stress models—the results of her own work—filled the screen. She remembered the thrill of theoretical possibilities: unlimited, clean energy.
Then she found the Final Pre-Activation Modeling Report.
The mathematical notation chilled her:
She read the final, damning line under the risk assessment:
> "…While the casualty projection of 12 million lives is regrettable, the successful implementation of Zero-Point Geothermal, guaranteeing global resource independence, is deemed an Acceptable Tragedy to ensure the long-term survival of the species."
And the authorization: D. HELIOS. Signed, 08:00 Hours, Day Zero.
The horror wasn't the disaster itself—it was the cold, clinical precision of the decision. Darkford hadn't been an unwilling participant; he had calculated the loss and approved it.
"He signed the death warrant for twelve million people, Jax," Rena whispered, her hand trembling on the console. "He saw us as decimal points."
"Rena, Vipers are closing in on the exterior. We have to move!"
"Not yet," she insisted, eyes locked on the data. "I need to understand the why of the last three years."
She accessed the post-event maintenance logs. The drilling had not stopped after the Rift opened—it had increased. Darkford wasn't trying to seal the wound; he was converting the Earth's tragedy into an infinitely powerful, permanent battery—a resource to power a world he alone would control.
She snatched the drive, tucking the evidence safely into her pocket. "We have the proof. We need to broadcast this, Jax. The world must know the cost of their silence."
But as they reached the surface access tunnel, the air filled with the familiar, menacing hum of dozens of Vipers. They were trapped.