Riven could still see faded transit lines under the dusted road into Sector 14, though years of erosion had cracked them beyond use. Now it was just worn stone and sand. The outer checkpoint was empty as well. What remained was a metal post covered in dead wires, with a hand-painted sign hanging from it:
KEEP TO THE PATH / ENTRY NOT MONITORED.
Cassian read it aloud with a smirk. "Comforting, not gonna lie..."
Sector 14 had grown around what used to be an old water station of some sort. The center had collapsed long ago, but the outer buildings were still standing. The walls were made of shipping crates, with thin wires strung between them.
The place was alive, but it felt tired. People moved through narrow alleys with their shoulders hunched and their eyes low. Cassian's presence didn't seem to bother anyone, but Riven's did.
A child holding a cracked water jug stared at him before disappearing behind a plastic curtain.
Cassian adjusted his coat as he walked. "You're drawing attention."
"Apparently so."
"We're just here to rest and refuel, right? I mean, unless you've planned another dramatic scene in the streets."
"I'm looking for a console. Then we'll rest."
"Of course you are," Cassian scoffed.
They passed a vendor selling water filter packs and food. Cassian flipped her a thin coin and then snagged the dried roots she threw in return.
As they walked, Riven kept scanning the structures, specifically looking for signs of embedded hardware. One of the buildings near the back of the sector caught his eye. It had a faded emblem etched into its side, which stated something about a "manual relay access point".
Cassian raised a brow. "Looks like a bunker."
"Good. It might mean it still has power lines."
He pushed the door open. Inside, the air smelled like scorched wiring and metal. Faint light slipped through a cracked window, fading as they stepped in.
"Your version of rest and mine are very different," Cassian said, letting the door fall shut behind them.
Riven quickly scanned the room. The space had been stripped long ago, it had no furniture, no working lights, but the power trunk lines were still embedded in the wall. He knelt beside a sealed panel and brushed dust from the edge. Then he took the datachip they'd recovered from the water tower earlier and turned it over a few times, studying its edges for the socket.
Cassian leaned against the frame, chewing. "You're going to plug that thing in here? In the middle of a public zone?"
"It's not public," Riven said. "It's abandoned. Back in the old days, places like this weren't wired into the central grid."
"The old days..." Cassian echoed dryly. "Bet you ten credits some law enforcer wouldn't agree with you. We are not supposed to mess around with this shit."
But Riven, of course, ignored it. He pulled a reader from his satchel and connected a short cable to the side port. A small green light blinked.
Cassian's voice dropped lower. "Look, I know I joke a lot, but I wasn't entirely kidding about you getting us arrested."
"This isn't a broadcast device. It's passive," replied Riven without looking up.
"You sure?" Cassian asked. "Because that light just blinked like it said hello to someone."
Before Riven could answer, the wall behind them clicked. Somewhere deep inside the building, old systems were coming back online, recognizing something they hadn't in a long time.
Cassian stepped back from the wall. "Riven..."
"I didn't trigger anything... It just started all by itself..."
Riven tapped the reader's interface. A string of characters flashed across the display, then disappeared into static noise. An instant later, every powered object in the room blinked in unison, followed by a loud vibration beneath their feet.
Cassian moved to the window and looked out through the cracked glass. Two figures appeared at the edge of the sector's central square, wearing patched uniforms and black shoulder bands.
"CRB runners," he said. "They must've caught the signal."
Riven disconnected the reader, fast.
Cassian was already moving. "They're going to trace that ping."
"It was less than five seconds."
"They don't care."
Riven shoved the reader into his coat and headed for the back door. Cassian forced it open with his shoulder, flinching as it let out a long, metal screech. Outside, they dropped into a narrow maintenance alley half-covered by sand.
Riven was running, retracing a side route he'd noticed earlier on the way in.
"Five seconds, my ass," said Cassian annoyed.
They moved quickly, staying close to the walls and moving through walkways and side paths covered with rusted pipes. Riven moved with control, as he knew the layout better than he'd let on. Cassian kept close behind, still riding the edge of adrenaline.
From the main street came the sound of a boot skidding on gravel, then a sharp voice commanding: "Back route! Cut them off!"
Cassian cursed. "They're not bluffing."
"No, they're not..." Riven replied.
He turned into a narrow corridor, ducking under a low pipe that brushed the top of his hood. Cassian followed closely, nearly clipping his shoulder on the way in.
Behind them, a runner's voice barked something again, too far now to hear clearly.
They reached a split in the alley. Riven paused just long enough to scan both directions, then took the left, steeper, older, but buried in shadow.
"You sure?" Cassian said, already following.
"Not even a little."
The new path dropped them into what looked like the lower service part of the city. The walls were damp with condensation from old filter vents. A broken staircase led them down into a drainage access channel, once meant for overflow but now dry, hollow, and lined with graffiti. Riven slowed only once to check the satchel. The core was quiet.
"They're not chasing the core," he said. "They're chasing the signal."
Cassian huffed beside him. "I don't care if they're chasing our shadows, if they catch us, I'm blaming you."
"They won't," Riven said.
"You're awfully confident for someone who just set off a search grid."
A narrow gap opened between two support walls. Riven slipped through first and pulled Cassian in behind him. They crouched in the dark, listening. Somewhere above, boots hit the pavement, but the sound was broken and hard to trace.
Cassian leaned close, whispering. "We can't do this again. Not every time you plug that thing into some wall."
"I didn't think it would trip anything."
"Right. Because what we're doing is totally normal."
Silence settled between them, broken only by the wind through the vents and the low sound of distant systems.
Then, further off, the runners' voices faded, redirected maybe, or misled.
Cassian stayed still a moment longer. "You owe me more than water, you know that, right?"
Riven frowned without hiding it. "You're the one who wanted to tag along. Don't put that on me."
They stayed hidden for another minute, just to be sure.
Then Riven moved and led them down another side path, a forgotten stairwell tucked behind old ductwork, and eventually out into a service corridor beneath the edge of the city.
Cassian followed without commenting. His breathing had evened out, but he kept glancing behind them, as if expecting the silence to break again.
Riven stopped at a small utility room, probably an old maintenance office. The walls were still intact, and a desk sat pushed against one side. There were no windows, only a cracked light panel overhead that stayed dark when he tried the switch.
Cassian crouched down, resting one hand on his knee. "You've got a real talent for finding the worst parts of every city."
"It's off-grid," Riven said.
"I noticed."
They stayed like that for a while, catching their breath. Slowly, the tension in Cassian's body began to ease.
"So... we're wanted now?" he asked.
"I don't think so, we just tripped a sensor. They'll sweep the central square and log a report. If we stay low, they'll drop it."
"That's... optimistic."
Cassian leaned forward, nodding once toward the satchel. "You're going to tell me what that thing really is. Soon."
"I will."
"Soon, not in three weeks."
Riven gave a short nod. "Soon."
Cassian leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. "Alright. Good. Because if we're going to get shot at every time you check your mail, I at least want to know who's sending it."