The heat was physical. It pressed against Marcus's eyes, drying the moisture instantly.
They stood at the edge of the obsidian cliff. Below them, the magma lake bubbled and popped, a sea of molten red.
Ahead lay the bridge.
A sleek, retractable span of white steel connecting the rock to the Fortress.
"Two guards," Marcus noted.
At the far end of the bridge, standing flanking the blast doors, were two Sentinels.
They weren't the scuttling Scourge spiders. They were bipedal. Eight feet tall. White ceramic armor. They held heavy rifles across their chests.
"Thermal scanners," Lucilla whispered, wiping sweat from her forehead. "We can't hide. The lava messes with the ambient heat, but if we step onto that bridge, we are silhouettes."
"So we fight?" Narcissus asked. His voice was weak. The elevator ride had drained him. The blue light in his chest was a dim pulse.
"No," Marcus said. "You're empty. If you fight, you die."
He looked at Lucilla.
"You have the card. You have the codes."
"I'm listed as AWOL," she said. "Or dead."
"But they don't know we are hostile," Marcus said. "They just know we're here."
He pointed to the hazmat suit patch on Lucilla's torn jacket—the one she'd stripped from the dead surveyor.
"We aren't invaders," Marcus said. "We're survivors. Team 4."
"And us?" Galen asked, gesturing to Narcissus's monstrous form.
"We're the samples," Lucilla realized. Her eyes narrowed. The CEO mask slipped back into place. "Hazardous biological cargo."
"Risky," Galen muttered.
"Walking into a volcano is risky," Marcus said. "This is just business. Move."
They walked onto the bridge.
The metal grated under their boots. The heat from below was intense. Marcus felt the sweat evaporating inside his ceramic armor.
Halfway across, the Sentinels moved.
They snapped to attention. Their rifles raised in unison.
Whirrrr-click.
A voice boomed from the external speakers. Synthetic. Command authority.
"HALT. SECURITY PERIMETER. IDENTIFY."
Marcus kept walking. He kept his hands visible, palms open. He tried to look stupid. A grunt carrying a load.
"Director Lucilla," Lucilla shouted. Her voice didn't waver. It cut through the roar of the magma. "Asset ID 001. Returning from Field Survey."
The Sentinels paused. Their optical sensors flashed blue, scanning her face.
"BIOMETRIC MATCH CONFIRMED," the machine droned. "STATUS: MISSING IN ACTION. PROTOCOL DICTATES CONTAINMENT."
"Protocol dictates you open this door!" Lucilla screamed.
She stormed forward. She didn't act like a refugee. She acted like an owner.
"I have secured High-Value Biological Assets from the lower shafts! They are unstable! If they breach containment out here, the contagion spreads to the facility!"
She pointed a finger at the Sentinel.
"Do you want a Class-5 Infection on your log, Unit? Or do you want to let me do my job?"
The Sentinel's head swiveled. It looked at Narcissus.
The giant loomed behind Lucilla. His black armor was scorched. His skin was pale and veined with blue energy. He looked exactly like a biological experiment gone wrong.
The Sentinel scanned him.
[ANOMALY DETECTED. UNKNOWN ENERGY SIGNATURE.]
The rifle leveled at Narcissus's chest.
"SUBJECT IS HAZARDOUS. INITIATE PURGE."
The barrel began to glow orange. Charging.
"No!" Lucilla stepped in front of the gun.
"That is a prototype!" she roared. "Executive Vane has personally requisitioned this specimen! Destroy it, and I will have you recycled into a toaster!"
The name hit the logic circuits like a virus. Vane.
The rifle powered down. The orange glow faded.
"COMMAND OVERRIDE ACCEPTED," the Sentinel droned. "PROCEED TO DECONTAMINATION."
The blast doors hissed. Heavy hydraulic locks disengaged.
They slid open.
Cool, filtered air rushed out, smelling of ozone and disinfectant.
They stepped inside.
The doors slammed shut behind them, cutting off the roar of the lava.
Silence.
They were in a white room. Stainless steel walls. Grates on the floor.
"Airlock," Galen whispered. "Decontamination chamber."
"We're in," Marcus breathed.
HISS.
Gas jets in the ceiling erupted. A thick white fog filled the room.
"Disinfectant," Lucilla coughed, covering her mouth. "Standard procedure."
Then the lights turned red.
A laser grid appeared across the exit door. Horizontal beams of red light scanning up and down.
A computerized voice spoke. Polite. Lethal.
"SCANNING FOR CONTRABAND."
The lasers passed over Lucilla. Green.
They passed over Galen. Green.
They hit Marcus.
They hit the Vibro-Knife strapped to his leg.
[ALERT. UNAUTHORIZED WEAPONRY DETECTED.]
[CLASS-A THREAT.]
The ceiling panels slid open.
Two automated turrets dropped down. Mini-guns spun up.
"Drop the weapon!" Lucilla shouted at Marcus.
"If I drop it, they arrest us," Marcus said calmly. "Then they kill us."
"Marcus!" Galen yelled as the turrets locked on.
Marcus didn't drop the knife. He drew it.
The turrets beeped. Target acquisition.
Marcus didn't attack the guns. He attacked the wall.
He saw the access panel near the door. The one with the blinking LED light.
He lunged.
He jammed the Vibro-Knife into the metal panel.
CRUNCH.
The blade sank to the hilt. He twisted it.
He severed the main conduit.
Sparks showered the room. The lights flickered and died.
The laser grid vanished.
The turrets froze, their barrels halfway spun up.
[SYSTEM ERROR. POWER FAILURE IN SECTOR LOBBY.]
The exit door clicked. The magnetic lock disengaged.
"Go!" Marcus yelled.
He ripped the knife free.
They scrambled through the door before the emergency power could kick in.
They spilled out into a corridor.
It wasn't a hallway. It was a logistics tunnel. Wide enough for a forklift.
Crates were stacked along the walls. Drones buzzed overhead, carrying boxes, ignoring the humans entirely.
"We're ghosting," Lucilla said, checking her datapad. "The alarm in the airlock is isolated. The main system doesn't know we're here yet."
"Food," Galen groaned.
He had opened a crate. Inside were silver pouches.
"Nutrient paste," Lucilla said, wrinkling her nose. "Taste like wet cardboard."
Marcus grabbed a pouch. He ripped it open with his teeth. He squeezed the brown sludge into his mouth.
It tasted like heaven. It tasted like calories.
"Eat," Marcus ordered. "Fast."
He rummaged through the crate. Beneath the food was gear.
Medical packs. Hyposprays.
"Galen, stock up," Marcus said.
Galen grabbed the Medi-Gel. His hands shook with joy. "Antibiotics. Coagulants. Actual medicine."
Narcissus stood guard, watching the corridor. He looked bored.
"There are no swords," the giant grumbled.
Marcus kicked open a longer, heavier crate marked with a red skull.
[WARNING: HEAVY MUNITIONS]
Inside lay a weapon.
It was matte black. Bulky. It had a cooling shroud on the barrel and a backpack power supply.
[ITEM: PLASMA CASTER (Type-4 Heavy)]
It was too big for a human. It was meant to be mounted on a Sentinel.
"Iron Dog," Marcus said.
Narcissus looked down.
He saw the gun.
He smiled.
He reached in with one hand. He lifted the heavy weapon as if it were a twig.
"It fits," Narcissus said.
He swung the strap over his shoulder. The power cable dangled.
"Connect it," Marcus said.
Galen plugged the weapon's power feed into the port on Narcissus's chest armor—the one they had jury-rigged for the elevator.
HUMMM.
The gun powered up. Lights along the barrel glowed blue, matching the giant's eye.
Narcissus hefted the weapon. He aimed it down the empty corridor.
"Now," Narcissus rumbled, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I am a siege engine."
Marcus grabbed a handful of nutrient pouches and stuffed them into his belt.
"The control room," Marcus said. "We cut the head off."
"Which way?" Galen asked.
Lucilla pointed to a yellow line painted on the floor.
"Command Deck," she said. "Upstairs."
"Let's go," Marcus said. "Before Vane realizes his samples have teeth."