Rotham's boots echoed softly against the metal floor as he approached the massive airlock door. The rusted panel beside it flickered erratically, as if struggling to decide whether to grant him passage.
He reached out, fingers brushing over the control panel. The screen blinked:
ACCESS DENIEDCOGNITIVE SIGNATURE REQUIRED.
A frown creased Rotham's forehead. Cognitive signature? That meant it needed his neural imprint — something tied to his mind, his memories.
He hesitated, then activated the biometric scanner built into his glove. The device hummed, scanning.
The screen changed to a cryptic symbol — the same spiral he'd seen in the signal. His breath hitched.
He repeated the symbol silently, almost as if calling out to something deep inside.
Suddenly, the panel beeped. The door slid open with a grinding groan, revealing the darkness within.
Rotham swallowed the lump in his throat and stepped inside.
The air was stale, tinged with ozone and old circuits. Ahead, flickering lights illuminated long-abandoned corridors, beckoning him deeper into the heart of Adra-9.
Behind him, the airlock sealed shut.
There was no turning back.