The residual plumes of superheated steam continued to billow from the ruptured pipes, creating a dense, opaque shroud that swallowed the Inner Vents. The frantic hissing of escaping vapor sounded like the collective warning of a thousand angered serpents, competing with the rhythmic, heavy thud of the Earth-Shielders' medical teams arriving at the scene. In the center of the mechanical graveyard, a small, trembling figure stood alone. His hands, blackened by soot and grime, clutched a small metallic cylinder he had scavenged from Dayat's tactical waist-pouch.
Kancil stared at the unconscious forms of Dayat and Dola as they were hoisted onto mechanical stretchers. He felt a hollow, biting loneliness gnawing at his chest, but within his ears, a familiar, chillingly calm voice continued to echo through the Electronic Ear-Muffs he still wore.
