The Wraith coasted into the shadow of the derelict mining colony that once orbited a dead star. Its bulk was pockmarked and scarred, the skeletal remains of harvest platforms dangling over yawning chasms. Julius Reyes secured the drop-pod's harness, glancing at Brinley as she ran final diagnostics.
"Life support's holding," Brinley said. "Vault should lie three decks below, beneath the central hub."
Echelon chimed softly in Julius's mind. "Symbiotic signature detected—low amplitude. Proceed with caution."
They descended in silence, the pod's landing struts screeching against corroded metal. The airlock doors opened onto a corridor littered with shattered crates and twisted piping. Faint pulses of Echelon's light traced glyphs on the walls—identical to those in the Delta IV birthing vault.
"Follow the trail," Julius murmured, advancing. His suit's feet found purchase on slick, irradiated floors as he guided Brinley through the gloom.
At the corridor's end, a massive circular door slumped off its hinges. Twin ribs of dark alloy arced aside like the maw of some mechanical beast. Beyond lay a vaulted chamber lined with dormant stasis tubes—dozens of crystalline pods filled with viscous fluid and sleeping symbiote cores.
Brinley's rifle beam danced across the rows. "They preserved every prototype here. This was a testing ground."
Echelon's voice tightened. "Main chamber ahead. High-energy readings—vault nexus."
Julius approached a dais carved from living metal. At its center, a skeletal throne bristled with spines and conduits. Embedded in the armrests lay three glowing signal cores—one missing. The empty slot pulsed red, echoing the code of the Hive beacon.
"Vorr's been here," Julius said, fingertips brushing the nearest core. "He took one."
A sudden hum echoed through the vault. Brinley spun, rifle raised.
"Hostile signatures inbound—six lifeforms, closing." Echelon warned.
Julius drew his plasma blade. "Ambush—get ready."
They barely had time to brace before the vault door slammed shut. A dozen Hive mercenaries spilled in—armored figures grafted with symbiote fragments, their visors aglow with malice. Brinley opened fire, rounds ripping through the nearest two. Julius met the others head-on, Echelon's blades singing through brittle grafts.
Amid the chaos, a towering silhouette materialized on the dais. Vorr stepped into the dim light, his obsidian symbiote now laced with molten-red veins. He watched them with a predator's calm.
"You've unlocked my path," he said. His voice resonated like metal grinding. "Thank you, host."
He raised an arm. The crushed mercs at the rear convulsed as living tendrils burst from cracks in the floor, ensnaring them in moments. The vault itself reacted—ribs of metal sliding shut to seal them inside.
Brinley shouted, "We're trapped!"
Julius advanced, elbows bent, blades ready. "Then we make a way out."
Vorr smiled. "Your blade is sharp—but mine is ancient."
He stepped down from the dais, and the hive mercs surged behind him. Julius and Brinley pressed back-to-back, felling attackers with brutal efficiency, but the mercs were many—and the vault's energy surged around Vorr, feeding him power.
At the far wall, a maintenance shaft glowed faintly red. Echelon whispered, "Emergency exit there—twenty meters."
Julius nodded to Brinley. "Cover me!"