The air inside the service shaft was an icy slap that took my breath away. I was wearing thermal gear, of course, but this cold was different, a dry, biting chill that seemed to seep straight into my bones. The metallic, chemical smell was stronger here, lingering and vaguely irritating in the back of my throat, justifying Kael's cryptic warning about the air. The darkness was almost total, broken only by the weak beam of my handheld flashlight and a few flashing service lights in the distance.
The space was cramped, forcing me to move forward hunched over or on all fours in some sections. The floor was an irregular metal grid beneath which were bundles of cables and pipes of varying diameters. The hum from the base, once a distant murmur, became a dissonant concert of vibrations, knocks, and the constant hiss of fluids circulating through the pipes. Every sound was magnified in the confined space, creating a disturbing soundtrack to my clandestine foray.
Moving forward was an exercise in patience and physical endurance. The walls of the shaft were cold to the touch, covered in places by a thin layer of frost that flaked off when touched. I moved slowly, shining my flashlight along the way, looking for any signs that would indicate my position or a clear direction to the research level. The mental map I'd constructed based on the schematic on the wall was rudimentary at best; this labyrinth of metal and darkness was far more complex than it appeared from the outside.
My mind, despite the physical exertion and discomfort, never stopped working. What was driving me to do this? Me, Jaxson Cole, the man who preferred adventure on paper, crawling through maintenance ducts on an icy moon billions of miles from comfort. It wasn't just the money Dick had promised, or even the promise of a story. There was something about the secrecy, about the arrogance of those hiding the truth about the Chimeric Compound, that irritated me deeply. And the image of Dr. Hanson, a brilliant scientist seemingly silenced and surveilled, stirred an unusual indignation in my normally cynical inner self. Perhaps, after all, I had something of that writing hero in me.
As I went deeper, the temperature fluctuated erratically. There were pockets of extreme cold that made me shiver despite my gear, and other areas where the residual heat from some machinery made the air feel stale and oppressive. Kael was right; the air in here was unhealthy. I covered my mouth and nose with a sleeve to filter out some of the smell and metallic dust.
At one particularly complex conduit crossing, my flashlight illuminated something unusual. It wasn't part of the maintenance structure. It was a pipe, of a different material, with an uneven outer coating and signs of... unusual freezing. Ice formations of the same iridescent pale blue I'd seen in the corridor the night before extended from the pipe's joints. It looked as if something extremely cold was flowing inside, and the containment wasn't perfect.
I approached cautiously, shining my light down the pipe. It wasn't a normal water pipe. It was more robust, with additional sensors and check valves. No doubt part of the Chimeric Compound's transport system. The anomalous frost around it was disturbing evidence of its instability or some problem in its handling. I took several photographs with my datapad, documenting the location and appearance of the ice. This was the proof I needed, visual confirmation that the Chimeric Compound was a real material and was actively being transported through the base, with leaks causing the strange freezing.
I continued my journey to Hanson, now with a renewed sense of purpose—and danger. If these pipes ran through here, it meant the Chimeric Compound was being moved, perhaps from extraction areas to laboratories or storage areas. And the presence of leaks, however small, suggested the incidents weren't just one-off failures, but a systemic problem.
The maze of conduits seemed to stretch on forever. I was disoriented, but I kept going, guided by my intuition and the hope that Kael had given me the access code to a strategic point. The cold, stale air, the constant rumble of machinery, the claustrophobia—it all added up to a disorienting experience. There were a couple of times when I swore I heard unusual noises beyond the normal hum of the base, like footsteps or distant murmurs that seemed to be coming from the conduits themselves. I would stop, turn off my flashlight, and listen in the darkness, but the sounds never repeated clearly. Was it my imagination playing tricks on my nerves, or was there someone else in this subterranean labyrinth?
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of crawling in the dark, I saw a different light than my flashlight. It was an artificial light, brighter and more constant, filtering through the vents up ahead. It seemed to be coming from below. Cautiously, I approached and peered through one of the vents.
I was in a duct that ran above a wide, lit corridor. I could see personnel moving about below. And what I saw stopped me in my tracks. I was looking down the research level. The blast doors of several labs were visible, and through the windows of some, I could see specialized scientific equipment. And, in the distance, I saw a familiar figure walking down the corridor with an escort: Dr. Lena Hanson, accompanied by the same burly man who had guarded her in the cafeteria and, to my surprise, the burly man Kael.
They were together. Kael, who was supposedly investigating the truth, and the corporate bodyguard who seemed to be part of the cover-up, escorting Dr. Hanson. What did this mean? Was Kael a double agent? Had I walked into a trap? The scene didn't fit with the information Kael had given me. The intrigue, which I thought I was just beginning to unravel, had just become infinitely more complex and dangerous. I was in an advantageous position to observe, but also extremely vulnerable, trapped in the metal maze above them, with a truth far more twisted than I had imagined unfolding before my eyes. The chill in the ducts felt even more intense now, a mirror of the chill that ran down my spine as I realized that nothing at 73P was what it seemed, and that my unexpected ally might, in fact, be my greatest danger.
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