Page 77 of Rupture

Ethan’s deep voice vibrated through the comms. “Fifty feet from the entrance.”

Her eyes flicked to the map. Ethan and Liev were closing in, but MARV was still ahead.

“MARV’s approaching the vent now, Ethan. Maintain comms.”

“Copy.”

She exhaled a shaky breath, her focus locked on the feed. “Hold on, Finn. You’ve got too much left to do. Don’t make me face this without you.”

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The Io’sdischarge vent was dead ahead, a dark breach against the subtle gleam of the hull. In the powerful beam of MARV’s headlights, microscopic flagella swayed like wraiths, stirred by the currents. Rose ignored them, her focus locked on Finn’s vitals and the patch of hull illuminated on the display.

MARV’s targeting system flashed red over the interface. Target located.

I’m coming for you, Finn.

“I have the vent in sight,” she reported, her voice level despite the ice moving through her veins. With a flick of her fingers, she toggled MARV from autonomous to manual control. She slotted her hands into the controls, the subtle vibration of its movement quieting her fear.

The vent yawned black and uninviting, the beam from MARV’s headlights catching glints of organic growth covering its narrowing walls. Pale tendrils of weed shifted lazily in the current.

Rose blew out a breath, flexing her fingers. “Okay, let’s see what we’ve got.”

MARV entered the vent. Rose adjusted the thrust sensitivity, feeling every micro-adjustment as the hybrid navigated the confined space. Its headlights illuminated walls crusted with algae and organic debris. Silt billowed in sluggish clouds beneath MARV, curling and dispersing like smoke. She kept the movement precise, each correction transmitted through the haptic feedback in her controls.

The vent narrowed further as chunks of debris briefly obscured the primary camera. Her heart jumped, but the backup sensors compensated, maintaining visuals. The light swung right as MARV adjusted course.

Black flippers came into view.

Finn.

Hot tears burned her eyes, blurring the screen. She blinked furiously, forcing the emotion back. Tears wouldn’t help. They’d only cloud her vision, and right now, vision was everything. She exhaled slowly, the breath hitching in her throat as she tasted salt. She steadied MARV’s approach as a warning light flickered on her display—the vent’s pressure was affecting the stabilization system.

Shit. Shit.Her pulse dulled.

“Liev, Ethan. I have Finn in visual. Prepping for extraction now.” She checked her controls. “Stabilizers at eighty percent, but holding.”

Air deserted her lungs.Just like the drills. I built MARV for this.

MARV inched forward, its rescue arms extending with the precision she’d spent endless hours perfecting. The articulated grippers opened with smooth efficiency.

Come on. Come on.

She locked a grip around Finn’s ankle, the connection sending a jolt through her chest. Securing him to her. If they both survived this, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to let himgo. How had that happened? When had he become so important?

“Okay MARV. Show them what you can do, sweetheart.”

The grippers retracted, pulling Finn out of the vent as MARV reversed through the constricted space. His legs blocked Rose’s view of his upper body, his hands drifting in and out of frame as MARV maneuvered. Each glimpse of his limp fingers sent fresh waves of anxiety through her.

Please be okay. Please.

MARV finally cleared the vent but Finn’s body was frighteningly still.

“Rose. We have him.” Liev reported through the comms.

On camera, black-gloved hands reached for Finn. Liev and Ethan’s voices came rapid-fire in her ears, professional efficiency masking their own concern.

“Hang in there, buddy.”

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