Page 109 of Rescuing Ally: Part 2
“Hank.” Gabe’s voice holds warning.
I pocket the badge, face grim. “Moving.”
Ethan watches me, eyes unreadable behind tactical gear. He knows. We all know. The women aren’t just alive—they’re fighting back.
“Cerberus update,” Whisper’s voice returns. “Primary security grid compromised. Secondary systems engaged. Proceeding to the command center.”
Through my earpiece, I catch muffled sounds of combat. Brass cursing. The wet impact of a knife finding flesh. Ghost’s cold voice: “Clear.”
Our path leads downward. Service stairs. Emergency lighting that flickers with the Trojan horse’s spreading influence. The stairwell stinks of antiseptic and something else—a metallic, alien scent that makes my skin crawl.
Sublevels. Where men like Malfor hide their darkest work.
“Multiple heat signatures ahead,” Jeb warns. “Lab coats, not tactical.”
Scientists. Not fighters. Still dangerous in their own way.
“Bypass if possible,” Ethan orders.
We edge along the corridor, finding an alternative route through what appears to be a storage area. Shelves of equipment. Boxes of supplies. Strange containers filled with shimmering liquid that seems to move with purpose.
“Don’t touch anything,” I warn.
“No shit,” Blake mutters.
A sound above makes us freeze. Metal scraping against metal. The ceiling vents.
“Drone,” Rigel breathes.
We press against the walls, weapons ready. A small spherical object drops from the vent, hovering at eye level. Not like any drone I’ve seen before. This thing pulses with inner light, its surface crawling with what looks like liquid metal.
“Shit,” Walt whispers. “Nanobot construct.”
The drone rotates slowly, sensors probing the darkness. My finger tightens on the trigger.
“Hold,” Ethan commands. “It might trigger an alarm.”
The drone drifts closer to Gabe’s position. He doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. The machine hovers inches from his face, then abruptly turns, rising back toward the ceiling vent.
“It’s cataloging,” Jeb whispers. “Mapping changes to the environment.”
The drone disappears into the ventilation system.
“Move,” Ethan orders. “Now.”
We double-time through the storage area, reaching another corridor. The map says we’re close. Two more junctions. A security door. Then the holding cells.
The overhead lights flicker, then die completely. Emergency lights kick on, bathing everything in a blood-red glow.
“Phase two initiated,” Whisper updates. “Main power compromised. Backup systems failing.”
Good. Chaos works in our favor.
“—reading unusual power fluctuations in your sector,” Whisper continues, voice breaking through static. “Possible?—”
The transmission cuts abruptly.
“Whisper?” Ethan tries. “Cerberus? Report.”
