The small maintenance room where I emerged from the duct smelled of oil, cold metal, and a vague trace of the stale air of the labyrinth I'd just left. I closed the hatch behind me carefully, the metallic screech sounding too loud in the apparent silence of the room. I leaned back against the nearest wall, my body shaking slightly from exertion and adrenaline. I was out of the mousehole of the ducts, but I knew I was still deep inside the cage that was 73P's base. And now, that cage felt much smaller and more dangerous.
The image of Kael walking past the corporate bodyguard and Dr. Hanson played endlessly in my mind. What did it mean? Betrayal seemed the obvious, painful answer. She'd used me. She'd provided me access to the conduits, knowing it was exposing me, perhaps even guiding me to a place where I could be controlled or eliminated. But why all the charade of the conversation, the warning about the Chimeric Compound, the conduit access? If they just wanted to get rid of me, there were simpler ways in a place like 73P. Unless... unless their game was more complicated. Perhaps Kael wasn't a simple traitor, but someone playing on multiple fronts? Or perhaps he was being coerced, with Hanson's life as leverage? I didn't know, and the uncertainty was almost as paralyzing as the fear.
My original plan, based on a supposed alliance with Kael to get to Hanson, was in tatters. Now, Kael himself was part of the mystery, a piece in the puzzle that didn't fit and, in fact, distorted the entire picture. I needed a new approach, one that didn't rely on anyone else and that took into account the possibility that almost anyone on the base could be an agent of Aqua-Sol or the enigmatic corporate security force.
I checked the small maintenance room. There were some tools hanging on the walls and a basic service terminal. I hesitated for a moment. Accessing the terminal was risky; they might log the attempt. But I desperately needed information. Were there reports on last night's incident? Any data on the Chimeric Compound that hadn't been purged from this lower-level network?
I decided the risk was worth it, but with extreme caution. The terminal required an access code. I tried some generic maintenance commands I remembered from my novels or past conversations. Surprisingly, one worked. The screen lit up, showing me a basic menu of the base's maintenance system. I browsed the files, looking for anything related to "incidents," "anomalies," "containment," or "research level."
The recent incident files were there, but most were cryptic, using internal codes and dense technical jargon. I found one entry for last night's event, classified as "Containment Failure on Transfer Line Q-7." "Q" for Chimeric, I assumed. The report was brief and perfunctory, attributing the failure to an "unexpected pressure fluctuation," exactly what the technicians had told me they'd been ordered to report. No mention of the anomalous ice, nor of the true extent of the problem. The cover-up was systematic, extending back to basic maintenance logs.
However, in a corner of the system, I found a section of unclassified "duty notices." Most were routine, but one caught my eye. It was a maintenance request for the "Gamma-7 sector ventilation system," reporting "unusual atmospheric conditions" and the need for "urgent inspection for possible internal corrosion." Sector Gamma-7... according to my rudimentary mental map of the base, the Gamma sector was near, or possibly below, the research level. Internal corrosion in the ventilation shafts, caused by the Chimeric Compound? The thought was unsettling. It meant the leaks weren't just in the main transport pipes, but that the material, or its effects, was spreading through the ventilation system—that very network I'd just crawled through.
I exited the terminal system, covering my tracks as best I could with my limited knowledge. Information was scarce, but it confirmed that the Chimeric Compound wasn't a confined problem; it was spreading, perhaps in ways even those operating it didn't fully understand. And corrosion in the ventilation shafts suggested that even the breathing air in certain parts of the base might be contaminated, or that the structural integrity of the base itself was compromised.
I left the maintenance room with a new layer of worry. I needed to see the research level again, but in a way that would allow me to observe without being seen, and without relying on Kael's dubious help. I remembered seeing other vents in different corridors. Perhaps there was a less obvious observation point, in a less guarded area.
I moved stealthily through the service corridors, feeling exposed despite the apparent calm. Every corner was a potential ambush, every person I saw, a possible spy. Paranoia was no longer a literary tool; it was a necessity for survival. Keeping my alibi handy, I was ready to embrace my role as a curious writer if I ran into anyone, but hoping to avoid them altogether.
As I approached an area I thought might be promising for a new vantage point near the research level, I saw something that made me pause in the shadow of a recess in the wall. They were two guards from specialized corporate security, the same ones I'd seen with Hanson and Kael in the cafeteria and at the incident. They were stationed near a corridor intersection that clearly led toward the research level. Their postures were rigid, their eyes constantly scanning. It was a much more obvious and militarized surveillance than I'd seen before in the common areas. They were actively protecting the access.
Seeing them there, like silent and lethal sentinels, removed any lingering doubt about the gravity of the situation and the nature of the forces at play. This wasn't just a corporate secret; it was something that required high-level protection. And it meant that my access to the research level continued to be blocked by conventional and not-so-conventional means.
I quietly retreated before they saw me. The shortcut was sealed. The service conduits looked dangerous and potentially monitored. Dr. Hanson was under strict surveillance. And my only contact, Kael, was now a dangerous unknown. I felt cornered, with every path blocked or fraught with traps. But the information about the Chimeric Compound and the corrosion in the conduits told me I couldn't simply turn around and walk away. The story, and the danger, were too great. I needed to find a new way to the truth—one that neither Aqua-Sol, nor her specialized security, nor the enigmatic Kael had anticipated. And that new way, I knew in that instant, would likely involve breaking every rule that remained. 73P had trapped me in its icy embrace, and the only way to break free would be to unearth its secrets, no matter the cost.
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