Chapter 15 · Drop the Sky

"Get your head down or lose it!" Lyra screamed, her voice barely cutting through the roar of the turbine engines.

She slammed Darek against the rusted plating of the ventilation shaft, her shoulder digging into his chest. Above them, the ceiling of the shaft groaned. A heavy armored gunship—a Cartel 'Vulture'—wasn't just patrolling the sector; it was trying to wedge itself directly into the exhaust vent.

"I can't get a lock on the core!" Darek yelled back, his mechanical arm sparking. The forbidden reactor in his shoulder was humming a dangerous, high-pitched frequency that vibrated in his teeth. "The shielding on that thing is too thick!"

"Then stop whining and find a hole in it!" Lyra shoved him toward the edge of the catwalk. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown. She didn't let go of his collar, her grip tight, pulling him close enough that he could smell the ozone and burnt gunpowder clinging to her gear. "If that ship drops its payload, we aren't just dead—we're vapor."

"I need more power," Darek grunted. He slammed his fist into the metal grating, the runic scrap welded to his knuckles glowing a violent violet.