24She’s already got five meters on me by the time I hit the edge of camp, but I don’t care. I’m determined not to lose her. Not this time. This time I’m going to catch her, and when I do, I’m going to get my answers.
As I sprint through the forest after Shar, I have a sudden flashback to the first time I followed her. Not only did I lose her, but I ended up hopelessly lost in the middle of the jungle. If I hadn’t lucked out and stumbled upon the old duro-steel path, who knows what would have happened.
My stride hitches at the thought, but before I can slow too much, an idea hits me. Sticking one hand in my shorts pocket, I fumble around until my fingers close over something small and round. A homing chit! We picked them up during our big shelter raid, and I’ve always kept a few in my pocket since. Making sure to keep Shar in sight, I pause just long enough to slap one into the trunk of a tree. Then I’m off again, flying over logs and around brush in hot pursuit.
I’m not sure how long I’ve been running when my chit suddenly buzzes. I spare a glance for it and realize I’m almost out of range of the last homing device. I pause just long enough to slam another chit into a nearby tree, making sure to keep Shar in view, and then I’m back on the run again. Two more times, my chit buzzes, and two more times I shove homing chits into trees. By the time my chit buzzes for the fourth time, I’m panting and covered with sweat from head to toe. I jam a hand into my pocket and grab another homing chit, but in my haste, it slips through my fingers to the ground below.
Panic jolts through me. I scrabble in my pocket for another one, but my fingers come up empty. Damn! That must have been my last one. I’m trying to decide whether to look for the lost chit or take my chances without it when a flash of silver winks up at me from the ground. Quickly, I bend down and scoop up the homing device. Slapping it triumphantly on a tree, I turn back to where Shar is . . .
. . . not.
Slag! I spin wildly around, scanning in every direction for that gray jumpsuit, but it’s too late. Shar is nowhere to be seen. I’ve lost her!
Again.
I swear aloud this time, though I’m not entirely sure who it is I’m cursing: Shar for tricking me, or myself for letting her. Right now, it’s a toss-up as to which of us I’m more pissed off at. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice . . .
Determined not to be made a fool for the second time in a row—and by Shar, of all people!—I sprint through the trees in the direction I last saw her go. Surely she couldn’t have gotten far in the short time since I lost sight of her. Maybe she’s even slowed down, in the belief that she’s lost me. I could take her by surprise!
The thought reenergizes me, and I redouble my stride. Dirt flies up, and something crunches beneath my feet as I run—first under the left, and then under the right a few steps later—but I ignore it, too intent on my mission to stop. Up ahead, I can see a bright spot where the canopy opens up to let the suns in, almost like a beacon guiding me through the woods. On instinct, I aim for that place, sensing more than knowing that this is where I need to go. More crunches ring out, each accompanied by a distinctive lump beneath my foot. A bad feeling blooms in the pit of my stomach, but I ignore it and keep running. Flying through a thicket of brush, I stumble into a tiny clearing and stop.
Tucked within the twisting branches of a tree, a tiny shack stands amid a carpet of dead leaves. I eye the building, little more than a glorified shed, wondering what such a place is doing so far out in the jungle. Rough-hewn and overgrown, it’s too small to be a home or commercial building. Could this be where Shar has been holed up all this time?
Only one way to find out. Eyes glued to the shed, I step out into the clearing.
Crack.
Something crunches underfoot, its initial dry crack giving way to an oozing squish. Lifting my foot, I look down at the creature beneath my foot. My heart skips a beat. What I had taken for dead leaves are in fact solar-flits—tens, no, hundreds of the creatures piled so thickly across the clearing that I can barely see the dirt beneath them. In death, their sun-drenched brilliance has drained away, leaving them brittle and brown, like autumn leaves that have been separated from their trees for far too long.
I take an involuntary step backward and feel another distinctive crunch beneath my foot. Wincing, I look down at the smashed body still partially obscured by my shoe. A strange feeling somewhere between horror and disbelief fills my gut. I don’t understand. I saw them swirling through the air only weeks ago. What could have happened to bring them to this pass?
Sinking into a crouch, I gently scoop up one of the creatures. It’s perfect, not a mark to be seen on its elegant wings or graceful body, nothing to explain why it and its brethren went from the air to the dirt in the span of weeks. It’s as though they simply sank to the ground one day and died, all life reft from their bodies in a single moment.
A chill runs over me. They’re just a bunch of dead insects. Creatures die all the time in the forest; it shouldn’t matter. And yet . . . I can’t help feeling like they do.
Disturbed, I stare at the creature in my hand a moment longer. Then, with an uneasy shrug, I put it down and turn back to the shed.
While perhaps it was once locked, now vines and other little tendrils thread through the doors, and it doesn’t take much to force them open. I step inside and look around. The two-room interior boasts neither Shar nor any sign of human life; it’s simply a small front room bedecked with a single console, along with a larger back room partially filled with bags of growth hormone, soil treaters, and mineral extractors. A small reservoir out back appears to lead directly into Iolanthe’s irrigation system.
Understanding dawns. This is a terraforming hub. Scattered throughout the area during the later stages of terraforming, these hubs allowed people to work on the surface without having to return to the bunkers every time they needed to access the system or gather supplies. A chit scan over the lone console with my terraforming profile confirms my theory.
*Welcome, Terraformer Class 1 Teal Sorenson*
Now that I’m logged in, it doesn’t take me long to verify that this is the same system I accessed in the underground bunker. Though I didn’t find anything of use that first time around, I figure it can’t hurt to take another look. Idly, I scroll through the main menu, glancing through the various options and prompts. Power, water, inventory, maintenance cycles—it’s all the same stuff I found last time. When nothing stands out, I begin methodically going through every single menu and submenu, checking every page in the hopes of finding something I might have missed last time. Temperature, lighting, security, coms, smart film—all the usual things you’d expect to find on the control panel for an emergency bunker—but no intel. Nothing to give even the slightest hint as to what TruCon may be doing down here.
Not for the first time, I consider simply shutting the power to the bunkers off. That would show them! Not that it would accomplish anything in the long run besides blowing my cover. Right now, I’m a ghost in the system, largely untraceable as I drift through it, a passive observer, but the moment I effect something big, the enemy is sure to notice. They’ll have me permanently locked out of the system within a matter of hours.
I let out a sigh at hitting yet another dead end. Though I know I should log off and rejoin the others, I find myself going through the menu once again until I eventually end up back in the settings section. Temperature, lighting, security, coms, smart film . . .
Smart film.
I stop, the term suddenly jarring something loose in my brain. Slowly, my eyes focus, not on the words before me but on the wall beneath them, glinting with the sheen of smart film. The emergency shelter is covered with it, just like the academy, our old apartment on New Sol, even the terraforming bunkers. It’s everywhere—a cheap, easy way to turn any surface into a touch screen and display monitor, allowing people to decorate, watch 2Ds, and run programs all in an instant. It’s one of those everyday luxuries no one ever really stops to think about, but what most people don’t realize is: smart film can go both ways.
Giving silent thanks to Vida’s great-grandmother for leaving us access, I scroll down through the smart film options until I find the one I’m looking for.
*Enable Surveillance Mode?*
With a silent prayer, I key in yes.
For a moment, nothing happens. Then the menu in front of me dissolves away, and I’m looking at an image of myself standing inside the terraforming hub.
A slow smile curls across my lips.
I think I’ve just found my way in.
Darkness falls over my eyes, blanketing my vision so completely it feels as if every light in the universe has gone out at once. Though I’m still standing in the terraforming hub, exactly where I’ve been for the last twenty minutes, I can’t help shivering slightly in the unexpected blackness.
Reaching up, I adjust my lenses. The walls inside the hub are so overgrown that it made more sense to run the feed over my lenses than to use the smart film in here. Plus, if I use my lenses, I can record everything as I go. Now all I have to do is uplink my lenses to the system, and I should have access to everything I need.
I take a deep breath. Now or never.
I activate the uplink.
Vision comes back in a rush, and I can’t help gasping. For the first time, TruCon’s entire network is laid out before me. Seven underground terraforming bunkers, five emergency shelters, and connecting them all in an underground labyrinth that must span a hundred klicks or more, are tunnels. Lots and lots of tunnels.
My eyes widen in sheer admiration. With this network in place, the people below wouldn’t have to so much as step aboveground. Even their ships could be loaded and off-loaded directly through the access ports in the spaceport’s landing pad without anyone the wiser. No wonder TruCon was able to keep such a large operation secret from even the most long-abiding residents.
Scanning the network, I search for my first target. There! The main terraforming bunker situated under the spaceport in the center of town. That’s the facility that’s drawing the most power. That’s where I’ll go. I select the bunker, and immediately everything goes black again.
When my vision returns, I’m in what appears to be a long hallway just outside the main entrance to the bunker. At the far end is a massive doorway. Though I can see that there’s writing on the door ahead, it’s hard to make out from this distance. Squinting my eyes, I narrow my gaze on the far-off words and then widen them in an attempt to magnify the image. The writing enlarges, and a very familiar symbol suddenly jumps off the door at me. I read the words that go with it, and my heart stops.
Hidden under the Spaceport, smack-dab in the middle of the Iolanthian settlements, is the Expanse’s largest bioweapons facility.