Emerging from the oppressive darkness of the ducts into the upper levels of the base was like being reborn, albeit into an equally hostile world. The air here was cleaner, the space larger, and the lighting, though artificial, felt bright and exposing after hours in the gloom. We could hear the hum of the base more clearly now, and, ominously, the amplified echo of the voices and footsteps of the guards combing the lower levels. The pressure hadn't lessened; only the scenery had changed.
Kael and I moved with the instinctive caution of predators (or prey) in enemy territory. We hunkered down against walls, using nooks and crannies and corridor intersections as cover, our eyes constantly scanning every shadow and every entrance. The contrast between these levels, designed perhaps with a little more consideration for comfort and aesthetics (there were even some synthetic potted plants embedded in the walls), and the stark functionality of the depths was stark. But the surveillance here was palpable. We saw security cameras on the ceilings and discreet motion sensors embedded in the walls. Every step felt calculated and risky.
Our target: the auxiliary communications mast. According to Kael, it was located in an exterior maintenance area of the observation domes, an area rarely used for routine transmissions. It was our best hope of sending the Chimeric Compound's data outward without being immediately intercepted by the base's main systems.
We glided through seemingly deserted corridors, the silence broken only by the sound of our own cautious footsteps and the rapid beat of our hearts. Tension mounted with every foot we advanced. We knew we were approaching the point of no return, the moment when we would have to expose ourselves to have a chance of success.
As we approached the observation dome area, we could see the vast, transparent curvature of the main containment structures, beyond which lay the black vastness of space dotted with distant stars and the towering disk of Neptune. It was an awe-inspiring sight, a reminder of how far away we were from everything, and how insignificant our personal struggle was in the grand scheme of the cosmos. But for us, at that moment, it was the center of the universe.
We located the entrance to the auxiliary maintenance area without encountering any guards posted directly, a small respite. The door was heavy and metal, with a manual access panel. Kael opened it with some effort, and we slipped inside. The room was a jumble of obsolete communications equipment and old tools. In the center, a vertical shaft rose to the ceiling, where, we assumed, it connected to the exterior mast.
"The mast access is up top," Kael whispered, pointing at the duct. "The main control panel should be on a small platform at the base of the outer mast."
The climb through the shaft was another test of endurance, but urgency drove us on. The space was less confined than the lower service shafts, but the air grew colder as we ascended, approaching the outside environment. We reached an access hatch in the ceiling, which opened onto a small exposed metal platform.
The cold outside hit us full force as we opened the hatch. Despite our thermal suits, the icy air burned our lungs. The platform was open-air, exposed to 73P's thin, frigid atmosphere. Above us, the communications mast rose into the black sky, a skeletal structure of metal and antennas. The view was spectacular: 73P's icy horizon stretching out in the distant light of the sun, and above us, the unchanging tapestry of stars and majestic Neptune. But there was no time to appreciate the scenery.
On the platform, near the base of the mast, was a small, frost-covered control panel. Our target. Kael quickly approached, pulling the memory chip containing the stolen data and a handheld device that appeared to be a connecting interface from his pocket.
"Plug it in here," he said, pointing to a port on the panel. "And pray the mast is still working and we're not detected before the transmission ends."
I remained at the hatch, watching the entrance to the conduit and visually scanning the base's surroundings, looking for any sign of movement or light that might indicate we'd been discovered. The icy wind whistled around the mast, an eerie sound in the silence of space.
Kael worked quickly and precisely on the control panel. His fingers moved nimbly despite the cold. I could see a progress bar on the handheld's screen slowly beginning to fill. The transmission had begun.
Every passing second felt like an eternity. My gaze shifted nervously between Kael, the panel, the mast, and the base's perimeter. How long would it take them to trace the transmission? How long did we have before a security team arrived at this remote platform?
Suddenly, a flash of light from the base caught my attention. Then another. It was the headlights of adapted ground vehicles moving at high speed through the exterior access areas. They were heading toward our position. They had detected us.
"Kael!" I shouted, my voice hoarse from the cold and urgency. "They're coming this way!"
Kael looked up from the panel, her face tense. The progress bar on the device's screen was a little more than halfway down. There was no time.
"Almost!" he growled, his fingers flying over the controls.
The sound of vehicle engines grew louder, echoing in the frigid air. I could see the lights approaching rapidly. We were trapped on an exposed platform, billions of kilometers from any help, with the truth about the Chimeric Compound about to be sent into the void, and our pursuers about to catch us.
"It's coming!" I shouted again.
Kael didn't respond. He was completely focused on the panel, his eyes fixed on the progress bar. The mast hummed softly above us, sending 73P's secrets toward the stars.
The lights of the vehicles were almost upon us. I heard the squeal of their tracks on the ice and gravel. The gates would open at any moment, and the armed guards would swarm us. We were exposed, vulnerable.
The progress bar on the device screen reached one hundred percent.
"Done!" Kael shouted, unplugging the device with a swift motion.
At that same instant, the access hatch to the platform flew open, and a figure emerged from the darkness of the shaft below us. It wasn't a guard. It was the burly man who had been watching me. And behind him, I saw other faces. Guards. They were in the shaft.
We were caught between two fires. The armored vehicles were arriving from outside, and the guards were emerging from the shaft behind us. There was no way out.
Kael put the memory chip and the device in his pocket. He looked at me, and in his eyes I saw a mixture of determination and resignation. We had managed to send the data, but the price, it seemed, was going to be high.
"I'm sorry, Cole," Kael said, her voice low over the growing noise. "It seems like we've been cornered."
The vehicles' lights bathed us, and armed figures began to descend from them. At the same time, more guards fully emerged from the conduit, blocking our only escape route. We were surrounded. The truth about 73P was on its way to the stars, but we were about to fall into the hands of those who wished to silence it. The cold of the moon enveloped us, a relentless reminder that, even at the farthest reaches of the solar system, escaping the truth and its guardians was a nearly impossible task. The climax had arrived.
.
Hello everyone, what did you think of the chapter? Please let me know in the comments. If you want to download the full book, it's available on my KO-FI page. The link is here. 👉
🤩ko-fi.com/winterstar01/shop🤩