IV – The Crimson Protocol
[CEE-TOO LOG: EMERGENCY EVENT RECORD — FRAGMENT RECOVERED]
Timestamp: Local Cycle Desync Detected
Classification: CITYWIDE DEFENSE ACTIVATION
Confidence: 0.93
What arrived before the first alarm was not sound, but light.
Crimson washed through the veins of CSDS like blood through glass.
The dark metallic sky above the settlement shimmered once—blue to red—then fractured into a lattice of emergency sigils.
[CEE-TOO LOG]
Visual spectrum shift detected across dome projection layer.
Color-state transition: BLUE → RED.
Cause: Non-atmospheric. Artificial override confirmed.
Moments later, the sirens began.
Low and droning at first, then building into a roar that swallowed the city whole.
Every tower. Every narrow walkway. Every home.
"Crimson Veil protocol engaged," the AI announced, its synthetic calm slicing through the rising panic.
"All units to containment posts. Lethal perimeter defense active. Ten-meter auto-response confirmed."
Then Zhang Bo's voice carried through every speaker from the command spire—steady as steel, unwavering as a blade:
"All residents—possible containment breach.
Non-combat personnel, return to your quarters immediately.
Seal doors, power down systems, and maintain silence.
All defense units—deploy to designated positions.
This is not a drill."
Mrs. Hong dropped her ladle mid-stir, broth splashing across the steel counter.
The kitchen lights flickered once—twice—then every wall panel slammed shut, sealing the room into a dull, humming box.
"Cee-Too!" she shouted. "Xiao Ying—safety drill, now!"
Cee-Too's eyes lit instantly.
"Confirmed. Manual override engaged."
[CEE-TOO LOG]
Maternal vocal stress detected.
Threat classification escalated to Priority Red.
Protective subroutines active.
Panels hissed as heavy metal shutters folded down over every window. The floor rumbled as blast doors sealed beneath their feet.
"Mom, what's happening?" Xiao Ying asked, voice tight but controlled as she moved to assist.
"System breach or sabotage," Mrs. Hong replied, already pulling open the power-conduit panel. "We reroute the Thorium grid manually. Secondary line takes primary load. If the main relay surges, the dome will hold."
"Won't that overload the buffer?"
"Better a flicker than a blackout."
Her hands moved in a blur. Sparks leapt from the wire ports, lighting her face in red arcs of current.
"Cee-Too—stabilize the secondary route. Manual bypass. Xiao Ying, link the diagnostic port."
"Yes, Mom," Xiao Ying and Cee-Too replied at once, both moving almost simultaneously.
The hum of Thorium deepened—a bass tremor that vibrated through the house.
Then the floor shook.
Hard enough to rattle fixtures. Hard enough to knock dust from the ceiling.
Cee-Too turned sharply, internal sensors flaring amber.
"Detected surge," he reported. "External source. East sector conduit—rupture probability escalating."
"Keep it stable!" Mrs. Hong snapped, tightening the regulator. Her artificial hand sparked under the strain.
"Don't you dare fail on me," she muttered through clenched teeth.
And then they felt it—
A deep, concussive thud beneath the ground.
Like the world inhaled—
Then screamed.
[CEE-TOO LOG]
Seismic impulse registered beneath residential grid.
Magnitude inconsistent with structural settling.
Inference: Energy discharge event.
Inside the Archive Nexus, the siren was softer—a pulsing thrum that rippled through rows of glass conduits holding centuries of data.
Wanchai barely had time to lift his head from the console before the first tremor hit.
Porcelain shattered behind him. A bowl struck the floor, breaking into pale fragments.
"Liara?" he called.
No answer—then a soft gasp.
He turned.
She stood by the cultivation pod, both hands clutching her chest, breath shallow and uneven.
"Papa…" she whispered. "It's… happening again…"
He caught her as her knees gave way. Her skin was too warm. Her pulse erratic, as if her body had lost its internal rhythm.
Emergency lights washed her face in red.
"Not now," he whispered. "Stay with me."
He carried her to the pod—the same one that had sustained her since birth.
The canopy hissed open. Blue mist coiled as he adjusted the neural stabilizers. The pod sealed.
Her body arched once, then settled into shallow, fragile breaths.
Wanchai turned back to the console.
The readings spiked.
[GENETIC DEGRADATION RATE: ACCELERATING]
[RADIATION SIGNATURE DETECTED — THORIUM FLUX, CLASS B]
He quivered.
The east-sector surge—
It wasn't just structural damage.
It was poisoning the air.
He pressed a hand to the glass.
"Hold on," he whispered. "Just a little longer."
[CEE-TOO LOG]
Archive Nexus signal fluctuation detected.
Biological distress indicators elevated within sector.
Correlation pending.
The intercom crackled—Zhang's voice breaking through the static.
"All non-combat personnel, shelter in place. Medical units on standby. Do not attempt relocation."
Wanchai barely heard him. He was already pulling a med-drive free.
"I need the stabilizer mix," he muttered.
Then something flickered across a side monitor.
A heat signature.
Faint. Blue and black-striped. A kitten.
No.
Kittens stumble. This didn't.
It moved with balance—measured, deliberate—
Each step landed cleanly, weight distributed evenly.
Controlled. Deliberate.
That wasn't how kittens moved.
Wanchai froze.
"Kaodin…"
Inside the pod, Liara stirred.
Her lips moved.
The same name.
Far beneath the trade spire, Mr. Qiran slammed his palm against the biometric lock.
Vault doors sealed with a roar of hydraulics.
"Pressure spike in sub-loop twelve!" Elara shouted.
"Then we isolate it," Qiran snapped. "Divert Crypthorium through the secondary circuit."
"That will freeze all trade functions."
"This is an emergency," Qiran said sharply. "Are you willing to risk the entire settlement for Crypthorium? Do it, Elara."
As she keyed in the reroute, Qiran withdrew an antique pistol from a drawer—engraved, well-maintained.
"Sir…?"
"My most prized possession, my old man keepsake."
Then his console pinged.
[CODE SEVEN: POSSIBLE TRAITOR — MERCHANT TIER.
IDENTITY: DAREN AL-KESHEV.]
Qiran's eyes hardened.
"Elara," he said quietly. "Seal every relay tied to Daren's warehouse. Now."
[CEE-TOO LOG]
Merchant-tier signal suppression detected.
Multiple encrypted closures initiated.
In the undercity tunnels, Talgat stood amid flickering conduits.
The primary circuit lay torn free—but power surged back in faster than regulators could bleed it off.
"Talgat to Command!" he shouted. "It's overloading—!"
The world turned white.
From the command tier, Zhang watched the east sector bloom in real time.
White. Then blue.
Lightning trapped in glass.
"Deploy containment!" he barked.
"Containment at seventy-one percent."
"Good enough."
Then the shockwave hit.
Lights flickered. Systems screamed.
"Sector Nine—devastation confirmed," the AI reported. "East district—offline."
Zhang closed his eyes for one breath.
"Track Talgat."
"Signal lost."
Zhang exhaled slowly.
"Then we hold the line."
[CEE-TOO LOG — FINAL ENTRY, FRAGMENTED]
City integrity compromised.
Multiple human distress signals detected.
Protective priority remains unchanged.
End of record.