✧ ✧ ✧
Shortly after, I at least had an answer to the “where.”
I climbed the short ladder to the Herald’s side hatch, my head still buzzing with adrenaline. The entry was narrow—like everything on this ship—and smelled of warm metal, machine oil, and something faintly like ionized dust. Not exactly comforting—but familiar.
Solin closed the hatch behind us. The mechanism hissed, and a dull clang told me we were safe. For now.
The Herald wasn’t a ship in the traditional sense. More of a data vault with engines. Everything here was built for transmission, encryption, and redundancy—no lounge, no windows except for the cockpit viewport. Just armored walls, blade slots, cable ducts, and readouts. Functional. Joyless. Fast.
I dropped onto the small bench by the work module. My heart was still pounding, the taste of scorched air and clotted blood thick in my throat. Solin took the pilot’s seat and half-turned toward me.
“Ten minutes and we’ll be in orbit.”
I nodded. “Thanks for picking me up. And for… you know. The warning. And for not just leaving.”
She checked a status display without looking at me. “I had data to offload anyway. You were just in the way. Now you’re… additional payload.”
I leaned back. “Almost sounded affectionate.”
She gave me a glance—hard to read—then activated the orbital controls. The ship jolted and accelerated. The outside noise faded, replaced by the deep hum of the engines.
A few minutes later, we were weightless. Lago lay below us—scarred and stripped, like a planet clawed open by a giant with molten fingernails, then left to fester. It shimmered in splotchy greenish-gray under its thinned cloud bands, like someone had dipped it in dusty oil paint.
Blinking orbital stations circled in silence—like insects orbiting a carcass. The Nexus star cast a cold bluish glare on the upper atmosphere, making it look thin and brittle, like glazed smoke. The dark landmasses hunched low—as if trying to swallow what we’d left behind.
Solin set the autopilot and stood. She walked past me to the terminal. I followed her gaze to the slots and modules. The room hummed faintly, like the ship itself was listening.
She stopped. Looked down at me.
“You know K’ray lied to you.”
I looked up, leaning back. “I suspected. But why the theatrics?”
“Because he didn’t have a choice. The Red God doesn’t grant favors—he uses people. The cult turned him into a tool.”
“With what?”
“With you. And the coordinates.”
She stepped to the terminal, arms crossed. “The numbers are a key. Encrypted—Xi’an-style. Not a location, but a carrier. A mem-seed.”
I handed her the paper. “And to decrypt it…?”
“You need a match. A seed. Basically, something to feed your decryptor with.”
“And that seed… we don’t have,” I said automatically.
“We do. I do.”
I stared at her, surprised.
“Hathor lab. Elcibre belt. Not my first run. But it was my last. I found the seed. I was the only one who… made it back.”
She pulled a sealed object from beneath her shirt—the seed. Small, shimmering, organic.
“This thing isn’t just storage. It responds to DNA. Some say it learns from its carrier.”
I sucked in a breath. “You realize this breaks half a dozen UEE laws?”
“And you realize I just saved your life?”
I said nothing.
“Look,” she continued, “it doesn’t matter if it’s illegal. What matters is what the seed unlocks—and why someone doesn’t want you to find out.”
I nodded slowly. “All right. So what do we need?”
“The decryptor from my ship—the one you stole—is useless. We need something higher-level. With a bio-interface. Organic-digital bridge. Maybe medical-grade—something that can read cellular data.”
I frowned. “Does that even exist outside secure labs?”
“Rarely. And not legally. The seed needs something that can process both genetic and neural impulses. Not just read—understand.”
I rubbed my chin. “Maybe a neurohelm?”
She shook her head. “Too shallow. This goes deeper. DNA, nucleus data, submolecular activity…”
“A scanner? Like those old dock analyzers?”
“Those only break down surfaces. No chance.”
I snorted. “Okay, how about a FoodSynth with biocalibration? I heard they can build a nutrient plan from skin flakes.”
She actually laughed. “Seed might end up as soup.”
I leaned back, let my eyes roam the Herald’s interior. Nothing alive in here. All metal. All logic.
“So… what then?”
Solin tapped the seed with her thumb. “Xi’an biotech was originally used in medical research. Adaptive cell therapy. Diagnostics.”
I looked at her. “So, medicine.”
“At its core, yeah.”
I thought back—dusty roads, shattered windows, rusting towers.
“I… I passed an old hospital when I left the quarter. South of the outpost. Half-collapsed, but not fully looted.”
She slowly turned. “A hospital?”
I sat up. “Wait—that’s it!”
She raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t hold back now—what exactly is ‘it’?”
“UEE medbeds. Older models—especially pre-2910 research units—sometimes had organic diagnostic protocols. Built for regenerative cell therapy and colony radiation screening. Outdated but powerful. If one’s still intact… it might work.”
“You’re saying it could read the seed?”
“It’s a theory. But yeah—maybe.”
She nodded slowly, almost impressed. “And if not?”
“Then at least we tried.”
A brief silence.
“Good idea,” she said.
I blinked. “What?”
“That was a compliment.”
“Duly noted. Won’t happen again.”
She smirked. “That would be a shame.”
_________________________________________________________________________
END OF CHAPTER II - CHAPTER III WILL FOLLOW SOON!
