Following Elara was like chasing a shadow.
She didn't walk. She flowed. She moved through the rusted labyrinth of the maintenance tunnels with a fluidity that made my own movements feel like a stumbling drunk. Every time I blinked she seemed to be ten feet further ahead standing perfectly still and waiting for me to catch up.
My shoulder was a screaming knot of agony. The cold sewage had numbed the skin but the joint itself felt like it was filled with broken glass. I grit my teeth and forced one foot in front of the other.
"Keep up," Elara whispered. Her voice carried strangely in the narrow pipe. "The shift change is in twenty minutes. If you aren't back in your cell by roll call Merrick will mark you as a deserter."
"I'm moving," I wheezed. "Just enjoying the scenery. Is that black mold or just really old grease?"
"Both," she said without turning around. "Don't touch it. It eats skin."
Great.
We climbed. We squeezed through gaps in the machinery that were barely wide enough for a rat let alone a grown man. I had to turn sideways and drag my bad arm through gritting my teeth to keep from screaming.
Elara led me to a dead end. A solid wall of riveted steel plate blocked the path.
"Dead end," I muttered leaning against the wet wall. "Good plan."
Elara ignored me. She placed her hand on a specific rivet. It looked identical to the thousands of others but when she pressed it the steel plate clicked. It swung inward silently revealing a hidden space behind the ventilation shafts.
"After you," she said gesturing to the dark hole.
I stepped through.
I expected a hole. I expected a nest of rags.
I didn't expect a workshop.
The space was small barely the size of a closet but it was packed with scavenged tech. Blueprints were taped to the walls. Partially disassembled mining drones sat on a workbench made of crates. A small localized heater hummed in the corner dispelling the damp chill of the tunnels.
It was warm. It was dry. It smelled like machine oil and lavender.
"Welcome to the Crawl," Elara said closing the false door behind us. She pulled off her rebreather mask revealing a face that was sharp angular and smeared with grease. Her violet eyes locked onto mine. "Strip."
I blinked. "Excuse me?"
"Your tunic," she said impatiently grabbing a medical kit from a shelf. "It's soaked in toxic sludge. Unless you want chemical burns on your chest take it off. And I need to look at that shoulder before it fuses wrong."
I hesitated then nodded. I peeled off the sodden grey fabric wincing as the movement pulled at my joint. I sat on a crate shivering slightly as the warm air hit my skin.
Elara moved with efficient brutal grace. She wiped the grime from my shoulder with a chemically treated cloth that stung like fire. Then she placed her hands on the joint.
Her hands were warm. And they were vibrating.
It wasn't a tremble. It was a high-frequency hum like a purring cat.
System Notification:
[External Resonance Detected. Source: Biological. Type: Bio-Luminescence Tier 2 (Radiant). Effect: Cellular Acceleration.]
She was a Radiant. A healer? No. The vibration felt destructive not soothing. It felt like a drill.
"This is going to hurt," she said.
"I know," I braced myself. "Just do i..."
CRACK.
She didn't count. She just shoved.
I saw God for a second. White light exploded behind my eyes. I sucked in a breath through my teeth my vision swimming.
But when the white spots faded the pain was... different. It wasn't the sharp grinding agony of bone on bone. It was a dull ache. The joint was back in.
Elara kept her hands on my shoulder. The vibration increased. I watched in fascination as the swelling visibly reduced. The angry red inflammation faded to a dull pink.
"You're not a doctor," I whispered staring at her hands. "You're vibrating the blood flow. You're forcing the bruising to dissipate."
Elara pulled her hands away wiping them on a rag. She looked tired. Using her power clearly had a cost.
"I'm a scavenger," she said. "I fix things. Drones. Pipes. Idiots who jump into sewers."
She threw me a cleanish rag. "Wipe the rest of the muck off. You smell like a dead drain-gator."
I wiped my face watching her. She moved around the small space checking monitors that were wired into the mine's internal grid. She had access to the camera feeds. I saw the barracks. I saw the mess hall. I saw Merrick's office.
"You're spying on them," I said. "How? The encryption on the Overseer network is military grade."
"The encryption is garbage," Elara scoffed. "Merrick uses the same passcode for everything. It's his birthday."
I laughed. It hurt my chest but it felt good. "Of course he does. Arrogant prick."
Elara stopped what she was doing. She turned to me leaning against the workbench. The moment of medical intimacy was gone. Replaced by the interrogation.
"You knew exactly where to hit Bront," she said quietly. "You knew Tiny would win the fight. And you knew how to delete matter."
She crossed her arms.
"You aren't a Dim Kael. Dims are empty. You... you're full. You're overflowing. When I look at you with my thermal sights you don't glow. You burn. It's blinding."
I stayed silent. I calculated the distance between us. If she attacked I was still in no shape to fight.
"What do you want Elara?"
"I want to know what's coming," she said. Her voice lost its hard edge for a second. "The mines are changing. The patrols are tighter. The quotas are higher. And now you show up rewriting physics. Something is happening."
I looked at the monitors. I looked at the stolen tech. She wasn't just surviving. She was preparing.
"You want out," I realized. "You're building a map. You're trying to find a route to the surface."
Elara stiffened.
"Everyone wants out," she said defensively.
"But you have a plan," I pressed. "That's why you saved me. You don't need my money. You need a tank. You need someone who can punch a hole through the blast doors."
She didn't deny it.
I reached into my boot. I pulled out the bag of Chits I had won at the Mud Pit. It was soggy but the plastic coins were intact.
I tossed the bag to her.
"Five hundred Chits," I said. "Consider it a down payment."
She caught the bag frowning. "For what?"
"For information," I said standing up. My shoulder felt stiff but functional. "I need eyes, Elara. I can't be everywhere. You have the cameras. You have the tunnels."
I walked to the door.
"I'm going to burn this place down," I said. "Not just the barracks. The whole sector. Merrick. The Wardens. The whole damn farm."
Elara looked at the bag of money then at me.
"You're insane," she whispered.
"I'm efficient," I corrected. "Keep the money. Buy better parts for your drones. When I make my move I'll need someone to open the doors."
I put my hand on the release mechanism.
"One question," she said.
I paused.
"What are you?"
I looked back at her. The violet light of the monitors reflected in her eyes.
"I'm the guy who is going to break the rule," I said.
I opened the door and stepped back into the dark damp tunnel.
"See you around Ghost."
I made it back to the barracks with three minutes to spare.
I slipped through the back entrance just as the guards were lining everyone up for the evening headcount. I was wet, shivering, and smelled terrible but in Sector 4 that was just standard operating procedure.
Jaren nearly cried when he saw me. Lyra just punched me in the good arm.
"Where were you?" she hissed. "We thought Grix got you."
"Took the scenic route," I muttered falling into line. "Did you hide the boots?"
"Yes."
"Good."
Overseer Merrick walked down the line tapping his datapad. He stopped in front of me. He wrinkled his nose at the smell.
"You look like you wrestled a pig 7-124," Merrick sneered.
"Fell in a sump pump sir," I said keeping my head down. "Very slippery."
Merrick stared at me for a long moment. He was looking for a lie. He was looking for a spark of rebellion.
I gave him nothing but a dull bovine stare.
"Clean yourself up," Merrick spat moving on. "Tomorrow is a double shift. Don't be late."
As he walked away I felt a vibration in my pocket.
I reached in. It was a small crude communication device. A piece of scavenged tech.
Elara must have slipped it into my pocket when she fixed my shoulder.
It buzzed once. A single text message scrolled across the tiny cracked screen.
Deal.
I smiled.
I had a healer. I had a spy. I had a bankroll.
The tutorial was officially over.
Now the real game began.