The terminal screen glowed in front of me. Seven targets. Seven choices.

  Forty-five minutes.

  Sloane stood ten meters back, rifle loose but ready. She hadn't spoken since Eli's name had passed between us. Her eyes tracked me like I was something dangerous. Something she didn't recognize anymore.

  Marcus had positioned himself between me and the others. Not threatening. Just watching. His hand rested on his weapon, thumb against the safety. Counting ammunition in his head. Calculating odds.

  The Rival covered the tunnel entrance, detonator in one hand, scanner in the other. His face was empty. Professional. He'd watched people die before. He'd watch more.

  Prime waited beside the central column, pale eyes fixed on me. Its burns were still weeping black fluid. Its broken arm hung at an unnatural angle. It didn't seem to notice.

  My hand hovered over the display.

  [SECTOR 7-C SURVIVORS: CURRENT LOCATION — RELAY CORE PERIMETER]

  I could send the calibration there. End them fast. Clean. No more running. No more watching them die one by one.

  The woman with the shiv was out there. The ones who'd made it this far. The ones who'd trusted me.

  My left foot was cold to the knee. The numbness was spreading. I couldn't feel the floor through my boot. Walking required concentration now.

  I pressed the screen. Selected a target.

  Not the survivors.

  Not empty space.

  The decommission vault.

  [REDIRECTION TARGET: DECOMMISSION VAULT 7 — POD STORAGE]

  [CONFIRM? Y/N]

  I confirmed.

  [REDIRECTION INITIATED]

  [CALIBRATION SEQUENCE: REROUTING]

  [EXPECTED IMPACT: 47 SECONDS]

  The hum changed.

  The relay core's central column pulsed brighter. The blue light deepened, shifted toward violet. The vibration in the floor intensified, traveled up through my legs, into my chest, into my skull.

  Sloane stumbled, caught herself on a support beam. "What's happening?"

  "Calibration," Prime said. Its voice was flat, clinical. "Redirected. Not stopped."

  The violet light spread. It crawled along the cables like living things. Up the walls. Across the ceiling. Where it touched, metal groaned. Dust fell in streams. Paint blistered and peeled.

  My skin prickled. The filaments under my chest glowed, pulsed in rhythm with the core. I could feel it. The energy. The frequency. It was inside me, moving through me, using me as a conduit. My heartbeat synchronized with the pulse. My vision flickered with each wave.

  The smell changed. Ozone became something else. Hot metal. Burning insulation. Cooking plastic. And underneath it all, antiseptic and burned ceramic. Always that. Always following me.

  Sloane coughed. Marcus pulled his collar over his mouth. The Rival's scanner flickered, died, rebooted.

  Forty-seven seconds.

  The Rival called from the tunnel entrance. "The contractors are falling back. They're not engaging. Just... watching."

  Marcus moved to a viewport, peered through reinforced glass. "They're pulling personnel from the perimeter. Everyone's moving toward the vault access."

  Waiting. They were waiting for something.

  The answer came thirty seconds later.

  Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

  The violet light reached its peak. The core hummed at a frequency I could feel in my teeth, in my bones, in the dead flesh of my hand. The air itself seemed to vibrate.

  Then it cut.

  Silence.

  Complete silence. No hum. No vibration. No sound at all. Even my heartbeat seemed to pause.

  Then the screams started.

  Not human. Machine. Emergency klaxons from three sectors away. The pods in the decommission vault. Their systems were failing. Their frozen occupants were waking up.

  I pressed my ear to the terminal's speaker. Heard alarms. Heard emergency protocols failing. Heard containment breaches spreading. Heard something else. Movement. Inside the pods. Scratching. Pounding.

  [VAULT 7 STATUS: CRITICAL]

  [POD INTEGRITY: 12% AND FALLING]

  [ACTIVE DEVIATIONS: 4... 7... 12...]

  [CONTAINMENT FAILURE: IMMINENT]

  Prime moved to stand beside me. Its pale eyes scanned the numbers.

  "They'll die," it said. "Most of them. Within minutes. Their nervous systems were never stable. The calibration is accelerating their breakdown."

  "How many will survive?"

  "None. But the chaos will force Kaelen to divert resources. Contractors can't pursue us if they're containing waking Deviations."

  Sloane grabbed my arm. Her grip was hard. Accusing. "You woke them up to buy time."

  "Yes."

  "Those were people."

  "Those were weapons Kaelen was saving." I met her eyes. Held them. "He would have used them against us eventually. I just moved the timeline."

  She released my arm. Stepped back. Looked at me like she was seeing something new. Something she didn't like.

  Marcus moved to stand beside me. His face was hard, but his eyes were calculating. "How long before they realize most of those things are dead and come back?"

  I looked at Prime.

  Prime tilted its head. Listening to data I couldn't hear. "Fifteen minutes. Maybe twenty. Long enough to reach the next sector."

  Twenty minutes. Not much.

  But it was something.

  The relay core settled into an uneasy quiet. The violet light faded. The hum returned, lower now, background noise that you stopped noticing after a minute.

  Sloane sat on a crate, rifle across her knees. She stared at the floor. At nothing. Her thumb traced the edge of her weapon, back and forth, back and forth.

  Marcus checked ammunition, redistributed what was left. He handed Sloane a magazine. She took it without looking up. He gave the Rival a grenade. The Rival nodded, tucked it into his vest.

  Prime moved to a terminal, began reading data. Its pale eyes flickered across the screen. Occasionally it would touch a control, adjust something, mutter numbers under its breath.

  I stood apart from them. Leaning against a support column because standing unsupported was getting harder. My left foot was dead to the hip now. I couldn't feel the floor. Walking required concentration, forcing each step, watching to make sure my leg was actually moving.

  A new sound. Low. Rhythmic. Coming from the speakers.

  [OMEGA-NULL DEPLOYMENT: PHASE 1 COMPLETE]

  [HOST COMPATIBILITY: CONFIRMED]

  [INTEGRATION LEVEL: 74% -> 76%]

  The number climbed. Two percent. Just from redirecting the calibration. Just from being near the core while it worked.

  I looked at my chest. The filaments had spread. Reaching my neck now. Soon they'd reach my face. Soon I wouldn't look human anymore.

  Sloane looked up. Saw me looking at my own destruction. Saw the filaments. Saw the dead hand. Saw the leg that barely worked.

  She didn't speak. She just watched.

  Marcus broke the silence.

  "What now?"

  I looked at the terminal. At the data. At the timer still counting down. Twenty-three minutes until the contractors regrouped.

  "Now we wait for the next phase."

  "And then?"

  I met his eyes. Held them. Let him see what was left of me.

  "Then we make Kaelen regret ever building this place."

  The speakers crackled. A voice cut through. Calm. Clinical. Familiar.

  Kaelen.

  Not angry. Not gloating. Just... impressed. Like a scientist watching a lab rat solve a maze it wasn't supposed to solve.

  "Good. You survived the first wave."

  The screen flickered. His face appeared. Clean. Composed. No signs of stress. No indications that a dozen Deviations were waking up in his facility.

  "Phase One is complete. Your compatibility is confirmed. The weapon recognizes you as its host. The calibration was a success."

  He paused. Let the words sink in.

  "Phase Two begins in thirty minutes. This time, the calibration will target your team directly. There's nowhere to redirect it. No empty vaults. No dead zones. The energy will find them wherever they hide."

  Another pause. Longer this time.

  "Unless you come to me. Bring Prime. Bring yourself. We'll discuss terms."

  Sloane stood. Rifle ready. Her face was hard, but her eyes were afraid.

  "It's a trap."

  "Everything is a trap." I looked at Marcus. At Sloane. At the Rival. At Prime. "The question is which trap we choose."

  [OMEGA-NULL DEPLOYMENT: PHASE 2 INITIATING]

  [TIME REMAINING: 00:29:47]

  [TARGET: SECTOR 7-C SURVIVORS]

  [LOCATION: RELAY CORE PERIMETER]

  Twenty-nine minutes.

  I looked at my team. At the people who had followed me here. At the woman who hated me now. At the soldier who trusted me anyway. At the killer waiting for orders. At the legend who had given up everything to help.

  "Marcus. Get them to the perimeter. Find cover. Wait for my signal."

  Sloane stepped forward. "Wait for your signal to do what?"

  "To run. To fight. To survive." I pushed off the column. My leg dragged. "I don't know yet. But you'll know when it happens."

  Marcus moved to block the exit. "What are you doing?"

  I looked past him. Toward the tunnel that led to the surface. Toward Kaelen.

  "Going to discuss terms."

  Sloane raised her rifle. Not pointing at me. Just raised. Ready.

  "You walk out that door, you're not coming back."

  I didn't stop. Didn't turn.

  "I know."

  Behind me, I heard Marcus speak. Quiet. To the others.

  "Let him go."

  The tunnel was dark. Cold. My leg dragged with every step.

  Twenty-nine minutes.